


Don't let your eyes fool you

by victor_fucking_hugo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Activism, Alpha Enjolras, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bigotry & Prejudice, Consent Issues, Discrimination, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, F/M, Guilt, Hospitals, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, M/M, Mates, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious Enjolras, Omega Grantaire, Omega Verse, Sad Grantaire, Scenting, Soul Bond, actually I'm not sorry but it's whatever, it's very very small okay?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:16:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 45,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victor_fucking_hugo/pseuds/victor_fucking_hugo
Summary: Grantaire is an omega, the lowest of the low. But, when he has the opportunity to change who he is, to alter everything he has every known in one fatal swoop--will he take it? Or will he not be able to hide his true self in front of those he trusts. Those he trusts being an blonde alpha who thinks he is the next savior for omegas world-wide. Grantaire may have some things to say about that.OrAn Enjoltaire A/B/O fic that no one needed or asked for (except me)





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cutting the bullshit. Sorry, I hate when I don't know who is what in A/B/O fics so here ya go:  
> Alphas: Bahorel, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Montparnasse  
> Betas: Musichetta, Eponine, Cosette, Marius, Joly, Bossuet, Combeferre  
> Omegas: Grantaire, Feuilly, Jehan

Sleeping on a bed felt strange. Or, a pullout bed at least.

Grantaire knew he should sleep. Sleep was a luxury his kind was hardly ever granted. Denying what his mind and body desperately needed was cruel, especially when the solution lay right before him. His eyes stayed open though, staring up at the ceiling instead of the starry night sky he had grown so accustomed to.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that this beta’s house was too warm. Grantaire could never be certain, but maybe the only reason he was able to ever fall asleep while curled up against the side of a dumpster wrapped in nothing but used newspaper or cloth was because the thought of staying awake only to watch his toes freeze over and fall off was too terrifying. Now though, his toes were wrapped up in blue and green fuzzy socks that smelled unfamiliar to him. The clothes he wore, new to him but obviously old and used to someone else, were warm and smelt like cinnamon and spices. The two or three blankets draped over him weren’t much different, all warm and sweet smelling.

The smell did throw him off though. He was an omega. Tiny, weak, and dangly. Despite the fact that the betas that had taken him in demanded that he take a long, soothing bath in order to scrape off weeks worth of grime and muck that could only do so much. The stench that he was born with still remained, reminding everyone around him of what he was. No amount of soap and clean water would change that.

The house smelt like two mated betas. Eponine and her mate--Grantaire mentally cursed himself that he had already forgotten her tall, dark mate’s name. They were soulbonded, that much was clear through the scent that littered the house freely, but seeing them interact was what confirmed it to Grantaire. The fact that the male had looked down at Grantaire with nothing but pity while Eponine begged him to take Grantaire, a weak and half-dead omega, home with them and actually agreed was proof enough. Grantaire didn’t blame the male beta, in fact he kind of agreed with him. Taking in omega for anything other than human trafficking was pointless and if it hadn’t been for the look of...something...in Eponine’s eyes when she bent down to help him up off the dusty street Grantaire had no doubt he wouldn't of allowed them to take him to their home.

Grantaire had been a part of the trafficking business before. He was defiled and his scent proved that. He would rather die though than go back. Escaping was difficult enough and living on the streets with little to no food, while not being an ideal alternative, definitely beat having to constantly cower underneath any alpha who paid for you. 

Grantaire trembled at the thought, his stomach going into knots and his back stiffening under the soft couch cushions.

He was in a beta’s house. Betas who took him in and told him not to worry and that they only wanted to help. Oh how Grantaire wanted to believe their words….

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

Grantaire went stone still at the sound of the new voice, his breath hitching involuntarily. Fuck biology. 

Eponine closed the door to her bedroom and with a long, drawn out sigh and made her way over to the couch. She kneeled in front of him, careful to keep her distance. “You’re scared. It’s okay, I promise.”

Promise. Promises are for suckers.

“Am I really that obvious?” Grantaire managed, his voice actually sounding a lot more confident than he felt. He saw a ghost of a smile appear on Eponine’s face through the darken haze.

“Unfortunately, yes. We’ll have to fix that though.” Eponine said. Simple. Like it was that easy. Even Grantaire couldn’t hold back scoffing at her.

“Fix it? Unless you have a way to change my whole genetic makeup I don’t think--”

“You don’t have to live like this, you know.” Eponine said, shifting so she was now cross legged against the carpet. A few books were scattered around the living room that appeared to be college textbooks, Eponine pushed them away with little care. 

Grantaire was silent for a moment. He took in a deep breath through his nose and was surprised that Eponine remained so calm, the same cinnamon scent lingering off of her in cool, nice waves that Grantaire actually found soothing. A beta soothing a weak and powerless omega. The thought was so stupid and unheard of and pointless that Grantaire almost laughed.

“Why?” He asked eventually. “Why are you doing this?”

Eponine paused at that, chewing on her bottom lip for a second in thought before answering, “Don’t know. I’m trying to figure that out. I’ll tell you when I do.”

“Please do,” Grantaire muttered, shaking his curls (no longer a rat’s nest on top of his head) against the pillow. “Figure it out how?”

“By helping you...if you’ll let me.” Eponine said, suddenly unable to meet Grantaire’s eyes. “Look, I don’t normally help people. Not my level of expertise, okay? But...I’m willing to give it a shot if you are. It won’t be easy, but I can see you achieving it in time. There is a fire in your eyes, probably why I saved your dumbass from freezing outside. If you wanna change I’ll help you, okay? It won’t be easy but...but turn me down now and that’ll be your loss. One time offer kind of thing.”

Grantaire sighed, not a long and tedious one, but one that made all of the tenseness fall out of his shoulders. He was still unsure of what exactly this beta meant, but what other choice did he have? Going back on the street didn’t sound appealing and only made him more vulnerable to be caught up in the trafficking business once again. This beta, Eponine, didn’t have to help him and that much they both knew. Turning down her offer would be a waste and one Grantaire actually saw himself regretting if he did.

He had nothing to lose. Nothing to go back to. What was he waiting for exactly?

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

~~~

 

Eponine was right. It wasn’t easy breaking literally every instinct that came naturally to you and training your brain to follow new ones. Combeferre had helped a little, mostly by making sure to leave his scent on everything in the house that Grantaire might touch on a daily basis. 

(“Rub your nose into this.”  
“Ep, I--”  
“Ferre! This is for the cause! And no, not the one you and your stupid friends are trying to achieve, this is a real cause.”)

He was beta, but definitely a higher up beta from what Grantaire could tell. Combeferre was smart, confident, and surprisingly kind. He had explained to Eponine hundreds of times why he didn’t agree with what she was doing with Grantaire, trying to train him to be a proper beta, but that didn’t mean he was ever mean or treated Grantaire any differently. He certainly didn’t treat him like an omega which Grantaire found himself eternally grateful for.

Eponine, on the other hand, was almost a polar opposite of her mate. Mean-spirited at her core and not willing to take shit from anyone was what Grantaire got from Eponine after only a couple months of living with the two. To say the least he fell in love with her immediately. Grantaire never really had friends, sure he had omegas that he would talk with when he was part of the trafficking business, but that was more of a way to look for comfort than an attempt at actually making friends. 

She was a rough teacher, due mostly to her natural personality and the fact that there wasn’t really a specific guide to disguising omegas into betas. Mostly because it was frowned upon. The attempt at fighting one’s basic instincts and attempting to change their biology was thought to be dirty. A sin. Eponine would just scoff at that and her assurance that Grantaire could change made it all the more easier to move along with their lessons.

It was after a year that Combeferre began really voicing his concerns on the situation at hand.

“I want to get him suppressants.” Eponine had blurted out one day during dinner. Combeferre froze, dropping his knife onto his plate while Grantaire next to him struggled not to choke on a baby carrot.

“You what…?” Grantaire asked first, his eyes watering a bit after forcefully swallowing whatever food had been stuck in his throat. He eyed Eponine carefully, but she didn’t look or smell any different. She continued eating her salad with her usual expression still on her face.

“Would you be opposed to that, R?” She asked, casually. Like this was a normal topic at dinner.

“No--I mean, they are illegal.” Grantaire said, stating the obvious.

Eponine rolled her eyes, “I know they are, but you’re ready for them. I swear if it wasn’t for your smell I wouldn’t even look twice at you.”

Grantaire couldn’t help but smile at that. his gaze quickly shifted to Combeferre who looked more than apprehensive. He cleared his throat, “Ep, you know I want what is right for R as much as you do…”

“Mom, Dad, please don’t fight.” Grantaire joked, half-heartedly. Neither of them found it very funny.

“Illegal suppressants though--”

“I know where to get them without getting into trouble, I promise. Parnasse can--”

“You know I don’t trust him either.”

“But I do. He’s a twat and I won’t deny that but he knows his way around. With these Grantaire can start living his life! He can go outside more without having me constantly tagging along with him. He can get a job, find his own place if he wants--do everything omegas aren’t allowed to do in this fucked up society.” Eponine explained, anger rising in her voice.

“I know, but hiding isn’t the way to achieve omega rights. If anything, hiding will do nothing but make the fight for omega rights seem even more helpless. Omegas are at the bottom of the food chain in our society, Ep. If we band together though, show the masses that omegas, people like R, have every right to live normally in society like we do we can change things. You said it yourself, even without suppressants R acts like a beta--if that isn’t proof that--”

“You sound like Enjolras.” Eponine grumbles, downing the rest of the milk in the bottom of her glass. “I get what you are trying to say, I do. I might not think what you and your social justice club or whatever are doing, but I know you all do it out of the good of your hearts. I also--thank you for keeping R a secret this whole time. I know you don’t like to keep secrets from your friends but this was important. What you don’t understand though is that a majority of you guys in this club are middle-class betas. Fighting for omega rights when you guys have no idea the ha--”

“That is why R can help us.” Combeferre argued. Grantaire froze in his seat, shaking his head.

“No one is going to know I’m an omega. I’m not...not anymore.” He said, firmly. No room for arguments just like Eponine had taught him. 

“And you don’t have to be.” Eponine trailed on, her eyes almost glowing. She gave one last fleeting look to Combeferre. “Please, let us do this. I’m not going to if you don’t agree with it because I love your stupid ass but if I had your blessing...that would be appreciated.”

It only took a a couple of seconds before Combeferre shook his head, a small smile on his lips, “Please, nothing could stop you from doing something once you have your mind set. Not even me.”

Eponine beamed at that, reaching over and plopping a big kiss on Combeferre’s cheek, “Now you’re catching on.”

Eponine called Montparnasse right after dinner. A box filled with various suppressants and other medical tools came a week later.

 

~~~

Two years and three months later (since first meeting Ep)...

 

Grantaire shuffled out of the foggy Corinthe, desperate to get away from the rush of people and the smell of booze and smoke. He just finished his shift, a whole fucking six hours of this shit, and couldn’t wait to get out of the place and it’s horrible atmosphere. Not everyone who came in there was horrid and pissed Grantaire the fuck off on nearly a daily basis, but he had yet to meet one decent person while in his short time working there. Working as a bartender, while not the most ideal job, felt way more natural than selling shoes when Grantaire couldn’t give more than two shits about what his own shoes looked like. Serving alcohol to people while in a slum--now that was something Grantaire could relate to easily. It only seemed fitting that he was a bartender.

He only bumped into a couple of people along the way towards the Corinthe’s doors and most didn’t even spare him a passing glance as he meandered through the crowds of drunken people. Grantaire, while not as short as a normal omega thank god, wasn’t a giant either. So yes, being on the short side was definitely a plus when you were forced to fight your way out of a crowded bar night after night. He had almost reached the door when he found himself nearly headbutting the chest of a tall, dark-haired man that spelled strangely of smoke and dying pine trees, if there was such a smell at least. In short, the man smelled like shit. Not even because of the old whiskey splattered on his clothes or the gasoline, for whatever reason, glossing over his boots changed that. His natural smell was disgusting.

Grantaire recoiled immediately, his nose scrunching up almost automatically in distaste before looking up. The moment he did he regretted everything he has and will do for the rest of his fucking useless life. Fuck.

Dark, black eyes pierce his almost immediately. They were cold, not even the color made them so just the way they squinted down at Grantaire like he was something to be examined and judged made a chill run up his back. Vibrations of neediness suddenly run through him, a need to look down, away, at the ceiling, at the group of drunken girls that look ready to fall and break a leg, back over towards the bar where alphas have been gathered around all day making Grantaire feel on edge, look anywhere but into this man’s eyes. The need to shrink away, shoulders hunched in a submissive manner while bending down onto his knees overwhelm him to the point where his skin was littered with goosebumps. 

He was getting better at this sort of interaction. Alpha interaction. Grantaire didn’t even have to ask if the man before him was an alpha. Hell, he could probably tell just by the way he carried himself that he was one. At least betas were different. He spoke with betas as equals now as easy as he spoke to Eponine and Combeferre because deep down he felt like he was truly equal to them. Alphas were a whole new story though. In no way shape or form did he see them as equals. It was either them being steps ahead or him being far too many steps below. He was never able to find a steady balance when interacting with any alpha. He knew, Eponine had told him early on, that learning to interact with betas would be difficult but not impossible, but because of the way he was born alphas would always be the real challenge. A challenge that Grantaire hoped would fade overtime just like the fear that overtook him when he used to talk to betas had faded. No matter how hard he tried though, it was still there. The urge, the natural instinct to submit just from being under one’s gaze disgusted him. In a way he was thankful for the disgust, it made it easier to fight off the urges and stare back with confidence.

Squaring his shoulders, Grantaire raised one eyebrow, “Problem, big guy?”

The man didn’t answer, instead Grantaire saw his nose flare, scenting him. The man’s dark eyes glossed over for a brief moment causing an unfamiliar pang of panic to go shooting up Grantaire’s spine before the man’s eyes suddenly returned to normal. It had all happened within a fraction of a second, something so quick that Grantaire wasn’t even sure he could convince himself that it happened. The alpha steadied himself and gave Grantaire one last confused glance before rolling his eyes, “Watch out, pipsqueak.”

And with that the alpha pushed past him and Grantaire thanked whatever gods existed that the touch had no effect on the omega part of him. Grantaire swallowed, took a minute to compose himself, before returning to his original plan of ducking out of the Corinthe.

When he finally made it outside Eponine was standing near a lamppost, her cellphone out and in her hands. She looked almost no different than she did when Grantaire first met her. She was still clad in mostly black, her hair tied up in messy ponytail that she undoubtedly threw up a minute before leaving their house. The lip piercing was new, something she had been telling Grantaire she wanted forever but never had the courage to do until Grantaire literally dragged her out of the house two months ago to have it done. She was pissed at being dragged out, and even more pissed that she may or may not have shed a tear or two when the steel rod punctured her bottom lip, but Grantaire already swore to take that secret to the grave.

Grantaire had been walking alone, working alone, doing things on his own for the past year. The thought seemed strange even to his own mind considering around two years ago he would’ve deemed it impossible. The suppressants had taken a while to get used to, and even longer to actually work. The shots he had to take monthly were a pain, but nothing Grantaire couldn’t handle. He knew that suppressing his scent was important, but the true key was to be able to contain his heat. If anything would give an omega away it was what they smelled like when they went in heat, not to mention what they acted like either. Every instinct Grantaire had been suppressing for two years would come out ten times worse than what is deemed normal. The begging, the whimpering, the submissiveness--all of that shit Grantaire dispised more than his shitty job at the Corinthe. No, Grantaire couldn’t risk it and if he had to get around five shots a month that left him bedridden for days well, he would gladly take it opposed to the horror that was going through heat. 

Covering up his scent was an easier task. Two showers a day with special shampoo. Easy. Simple. Done.

People still threw him odd looked when he first started using suppressors, but they quickly faded away when Grantaire himself got used to them. Accepted them as a new part of him. Unfortunately, nothing compared to what happened just now at the Corinthe had ever happened to Grantaire before. Grantaire shook the thought of the alpha’s eyes glossing over at the sight of him. He didn’t want to think about that, but even more than that he didn’t want Eponine worrying about it. Some alphas had a more keen sense of smell and despite that fact Grantaire hadn’t been caught. It was nothing.

Eponine didn’t notice him until he was right next her. She lifted her head up from the screen, a small smirk on her face, “You ready to go?”

“Nope, let’s just stand outside in the cold and enjoy all of what nature has given us.” Grantaire said, smiling back. Eponine nudged him, rolled her eyes, and started walking the short distance to the Musain.

Grantaire didn’t mean to join the social justice group that was going to save the whole fucking world one day, and thinking back on it Eponine probably didn’t either. Sure, in his years at staying with Eponine and Combeferre he heard plenty about the meetings. They were a big part of Combeferre’s life and while Eponine tried to be supportive at times she and Grantaire both shared the same aspect of the whole thing being completely pointless.

It was Eponine’s idea to bring him to a meeting nearly ten months ago when Grantaire was still getting used to being on his own,

“Come on, let’s go. Should be fun finding out how ‘Ferre and his friends plan to dismantle the government. It'll be good practice for you too.” Eponine said, good naturedly before bouncing over and pecking Combeferre on the lips. She had her new black combat boots on and matching leather jacket. Each article of clothing was bought separately, the boots were Grantaire’s and the jacket Combeferre’s, for Christmas. Eponine had found the coincidence so funny that she refuses to not wear one without the other on any occasion.

Grantaire fumbled with the blankets on the couch, continuously looping his fingers in and out of the holes scattered around it. His bottom lip had become nothing but something for him to gnaw on when he was worried. It didn’t matter anyway. When he was nervous words didn’t come easy to him, hence the need to not have lips anyway. Grantaire could only imagine what it looked like, red and swollen to a point it was probably ten times bigger than his upper lip. He could work with that.

Combeferre shrugged, gathering up a few papers that were scattered across the table into his brown bag (or man purse, him and Eponine were still debating on it). Combeferre, the sly devil he was, was careful not to meet Grantaire’s gaze as he spoke and instead tried to remain composed and have a rational conversation with Eponine that was definitely not directed at him at all, “We always welcome new guests. You guys don’t have to officially join or anything, just come and listen.”

Eponine huffed, “I’ve met Enjolras, ‘Ferre. He would go through hell and back to try and recruit us for his great Cause.”

“Perhaps,” Combeferre said, smiling a little. A smile Grantaire noticed the more he saw Combeferre interact with others that he only wore it when he was around Eponine. What a sap. “Still, you should come. Both of you.”

This time he didn’t try and not glance Grantaire’s way. His bottom lip was a wreck at this point, the holes in the blanket seemed to grow larger every time he forced his finger through one. He would’ve felt bad about nearly ruining the thing if the blanket hadn’t been given to Combeferre already looking a wreck. Combeferre had said it was a gift from a friend at the social justice club thing who loved to sew but was horrid at it. So, ruining it wasn’t the worst thing Grantaire could do to it. It would put the poor piece of cloth out of it’s misery that is for sure. Honestly though, he didn’t have the calm and mind to care either way.

“R,” Eponine said, her voice surprisingly calm, for Eponine anyway. “I’ve been there before. They are nice people, naive and way over their heads at points yes, but still nice. Most of them are betas anyway.”

“Most?” Grantaire couldn’t help but ask. He wasn’t about to deny his fear of alphas. It was obvious in everything he did and everything he said that he had a rational fear of them. He had never been open about his past, not to Eponine or Combeferre, but he figured with the way they found him it was quite obvious what his past affiliation with alphas had been like. All he saw in alphas were beasts, plain and simple. Although while training to be a beta he realized this was a childish fear of his that he had to move on from at some point--he still couldn’t seem to drop it.

“And omegas.” Combeferre piped in. Grantaire’s head shot up from his hunched position on the couch. Combeferre leaned against the counter with a shrug, “Jehan and Feuilly are both bonded which I understand made them much less of a target when it comes to people being prejudice towards omegas, but still. They were unbonded at one point and are both lovely.”

Grantaire gave a little nod. “Jehan’s the one that sucks at sewing, right?” He said, holding up the tattered blanket.

Combeferre gave a little smile, “Yep, that’s him.”

Eponine nudged Combeferre’s shoulder, prompting him to continue. With a sigh, Combeferre shook his head, “There are alphas. Some of them I’ve known since I was a child, R. They are there to make a difference, like everyone else there is. And, if it helps, most alphas there happen to be bonded as well.”

Grantaire took a deep breath. He felt the change, the shift in what his actions were going to cause. He felt the same way when Eponine and Combeferre brought him home that first night and when he started suppressants. A change was about to occur that would alter his life forever.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

~~~

Eponine and Grantaire entered the Musain a fashionable five minutes late. Combeferre was already there sitting at the head of the table with Courfeyrac and Joly by his side. Eponine gave Grantaire’s arm one last squeeze before immediately be lining over. Grantaire just laughed and shook his head at her before making his way farther back.

There was a time when Grantaire couldn’t stand to be in the Musain without Eponine by his side. His nerves would always get the better of him and he found that only Eponine’s presence could calm him down. Slowly though, after going to multiple meeting in which Eponine stated it was to ‘strengthen Grantaire’s ability to impersonate a beta’ Grantaire had found his own friends within the group, his own place in fact. The honorary cynic. Perhaps in the beginning the meetings were meant to be practice for Grantaire, but now they were for fun. A chance to hang out with friends and socialize after a hard day’s work. 

Grantaire slumped down into his usual seat and was immediately passed a beer. He grinned across the table, “You know me too well, Chetta.”

“I gotchu, babe.” Musichetta said, winking at him. Her nails were a hot pink tonight and seemed to change every meeting. Musichetta was gorgeous and if it wasn’t for her two partners, Joly and Bossuet who were both very beta, he would’ve thought for sure she was an alpha. Her kind, caring nature though told Grantaire enough that she was just like Eponine. Kind and sweet--but will also fucking punch a bitch.

“You’re late, R.” Bahorel piped in next to him, his face buried behind a deck of cards in his hands. He large, brown eyes moved over the cards swiftly, but didn’t appear to be drinking in any of the information written on them. “You’ll have to join us in the next round of...what are we playing again, Feuilly?”

Feuilly’s eye roll could almost be heard from across the table causing Bossuet to laugh next to a chuckling Musichetta before casually throwing an arm over her shoulder. While Bossuet’s laugh was genuine, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes that he had no idea what game they were exactly attempting to play either. A pile of cards, some turned upwards and others down, lay next to Musichetta indicating that she stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago.

“Gold fish it is then.” Bahorel replied along with a throaty laugh that seemed to boom across the Musain. No one seemed too surprised by it though, Bahorel’s laugh was fucking loud but also, unfortunately, intoxicating. Turning to Feuilly, Bahorel put on his best puppy dog face, “Got any sevens, my dear?”

Feuilly just laughed, shaking his head and looking seemingly unimpressed, “It's go fish, loser.”

Bahorel leaned back at that, his grin only growing as he leaned in closer to Grantaire, “The things I do for love, R. Unbelievable.”

Bahorel was an alpha. Undoubtedly out of all the Les Amis he was the easiest to read. His tall frame and rippling muscles stood out from a mile away. His voice was deep and demanding of attention, although Grantaire knew that wasn’t on purpose. If someone didn’t want to listen to Bahorel he wasn’t going to force them to. It was only when someone dared talk shit about his friends that Bahorel got really agitated and aggressive, enough so that even the toughest of betas would look away from his line of vision. Grantaire had only seen Bahorel angry once, and once was enough to scar him--and the guy that was making fun of Bossuet’s bald head at a rally one day--for life. Other than that, most people knew to keep their distance.

Grantaire was surprised he hadn’t been more afraid of Bahorel when they first met. He decided that Combeferre was right, as he usually was, when mentioning to Grantaire that he was bonded and that it would make him seem less of a threat. Feuilly and Bahorel had been bonded for longer than the Les Amis had been a group and were still as close knit as Eponine and Combeferre. They were a cute couple, both equal and happy, not the dominating and submissive duo that Grantaire always imagined whenever he imagined alphas and omegas being together. It was nice to see it was possible.

Courfeyrac was the other bonded alpha of the group, although Courfeyrac’s chilled and humorous personality may not make him seem like the dominating alpha like one imagined when looking at Bahorel, Grantaire could still see it in him. The confidence in the way he walked, the way he was able to converse easily with others, and the overall demeanor he acted when around Jehan, his mate, proved it. Courfeyrac, while not possessive in any way shape or form, was definitely very protective when it came to Jehan. No matter where they were or what they were doing Jehan was always an arm’s length away. The protectiveness was one of the stronger traits that made Courfeyrac stand out as the alpha he was inside. Grantaire was sure there is a story behind the warranted behavior between the two, but he never asked and didn’t plan to unless either one of them brought it up.

“Chetta,” Jehan’s voice piped in from out of nowhere, followed by the flailing of thin limbs wrapping around Musichetta’s neck. Musichetta let out a choked laugh of surprise as Jehan nuzzled his nose into her massive curls, “you’re nails look amazing tonight.”

Musichetta all but beamed up at the smaller male, flowers poking out from behind his ears and tangled up in his hair, “Thanks baby. You look lovely tonight as well.”

“I agree.” Courfeyrac said, suddenly standing behind Grantaire with a raised eyebrow. 

“Why thank you, monsieur,” Musichetta replied, half-heartedly. “I do try and keep myself looking fresh for these meetings.”

Courfeyrac laughed at that, exposing his white teeth and gleaming smile causing Jehan to untangle himself from Musichetta and fall into an embrace with Courfeyrac. Jehan’s arms were wrapped securely around Courfeyrac’s midsection when Feuilly let out a long groaned from the other side of the table.

His hand was pulling back the tangle of orange hair out of his eyes as he said, “Could you two not get all Love Actually for one. Fucking. Meeting.”

“Please,” Courfeyrac said easily, snaking his arm around Jehan’s shoulders and holding him tightly. Jehan let out a giggle of surprise, “you two are just jealous that you’re not as cute as we are.”

“Is that a challenge?” Bahorel asked, setting his glass of undoubtedly whiskey next to his forgotten piles of cards. 

“If so, we want in.” 

Everyone’s gaze shifted towards the sound of Cosette’s voice as she dragged behind her and a very unwilling and a very red-in-the-face Marius behind her towards the table. They both sat down, hands clasped together appropriately on top of the table. 

Over the next couple of minutes Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were in on the competition along with Combeferre and Eponine, both unsurprisingly unwilling to partake in the game until Courfeyrac literally threatened to throw Combeferre’s textbook into the fireplace if he didn’t. 

“I assign the great and powerful monsieur R as our judge of this couple cuteness contest.” Courfeyrac proclaimed loudly, smacking his fist appropriately on the table when he was done. 

“I will do my best, M. Courfeyrac.” Grantaire answered before finishing off the whiskey in Bahorel’s glass and grinning like a two year old. The feeling of glee didn’t last long though. Soon the laughter died down and all that could be heard was the slamming of the Musain doors.

Everyone felt it, even Bahorel and Courfeyrac froze a little in their place. It wasn’t hard to determine when Enjolras was angry, he wasn’t exactly the best at keeping his emotions in check. Rampaging and causing a big scene was Enjolras’ norm when it came to entering and leaving a place. This time was no different. His anger rolled in massive waves throughout the Musain, each one hitting Grantaire with a force unheard or unspoken of and had him clutching the table for dear life, his nails becoming imbedded into the wood. Of course everyone, Grantaire included, slowly but surely got used to Enjolras’s fits of anger he went through on at least a weekly basis. That didn’t mean the anger made Grantaire’s stomach churn any less whenever it suddenly sprung up out of nowhere.

Enjolras was soaking wet as he entered the Musain. Drenched from head to toe in water obviously from a rainfall him and Eponine had somehow just managed to miss. His hair was weighed down over his forehead and his red scarf draped sadly over his shoulder, barely containing all of the water it held. His book bag was no different and by the looked of it (Grantaire could imagine Combeferre cringing at the thought) most of the papers and books it held were most likely ruined. Grantaire would’ve laughed, sort of because he found the little scowl on his face terribly endearing and the fact that he knew Enjolras hated being cold and wet more than anything, but mostly because he was just by nature a natural born asshole. The only thing that stopped him though was the obvious, overwhelming sense of rage Enjolras was currently shooting up into the air like it was nothing, stilling not only the Amis, but every other inhabitant of the Musain.

Courfeyrac was the first one to speak, trying terribly to break the ice with a bit of humor, “Is that our fabulous leader once again attacked by nature? I knew something horrible had to have happened to make Enjolras late--”

“Not now Courf.” Enjolras growled, literally growled, causing Courfeyrac to unconsciously move away and drag Jehan along with him, his hold on Jehan’s hand becoming increasingly tight with the sudden movement. At seeing this, Enjolras face fell drastically, almost comically really. The scowl on his face was gone and he was left with nothing but a hint of annoyance on his features as he raked his hands through his soaked curls, “I’m sorry. I’m--I hate the rain.”

It was a weak excuse, especially coming from Enjolras, but no one seemed adamant on pushing him any further.

“It’s fine.” Courfeyrac answered. It wasn’t fine. The way Courfeyrac’s hand was still gripping Jehan’s said that much. Enjolras was a hot head and lost his temper more than an alpha, who is expected and brought up to be in control of everything around them, like himself should ever be. Never though had Grantaire actual seen Enjolras hurt anyone--well, anyone he didn’t intentionally mean to hurt that is. He had flipped a good number of tables and chairs, even shattered a few bottles one night over some stupid bill being passed, but that was about how far his anger caused him to go besides the usual shouting about the wrongness of the world.

Enjolras was an alpha. An unbonded alpha and no, Grantaire’s body and mind never let him forget that whenever Enjolras was near. Combeferre had told him that a majority of the alphas were bonded, but now Grantaire saw that Enjolras was in fact the only alpha that wasn’t bonded in their group, and the leader of the group at that. Seemed fitting enough that the leader of an ‘equality for all’ group should be led by the most privileged of all. 

Obviously Combeferre didn’t want to single Enjolras out by proclaiming so bluntly he was the only unbonded alpha, but Grantaire would’ve liked the heads up all those months ago when he first started coming to the meetings.

“A little rain never hurt nobody, Apollo.” Grantaire said, suddenly pulling a bucket of courage out of his ass. Enjolras’ eyes found his in an instant, piercing and blue. Grantaire gulped and forced himself to keep eye contact, “Let’s get started. We only have forty five minutes to save the world instead of an hour this week. Better hurry up.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at that, but to Grantaire’s relief he didn’t seem too annoyed at his comment. While Grantaire loved nothing more than to rile Enjolras up on a weekly basis, he was still apprehensive at times at how much he could take. How angry would Enjolras have to be at him before he would all but be forced to bow his head in submission? At first Grantaire spoke out against Enjolras because one, he thought Enjolras was naive and stupid, and two because he wanted to see how far he could push himself. How far could he back talk an alpha without losing his mind and crumbling underneath their gaze?

Although as the months passed, Grantaire found himself less doing it for practice, and more doing it for pure enjoyment. Either way, he was rather proud of his newfound ability to strike Enjolras down without batting an eye. It was an accomplishment, a step forward in his journey to fight off the annoying basic instincts that drove him crazy on a daily basis. 

 

The meeting was in full swing and Grantaire was on his second beer when Enjolras brought up omegas again. Grantaire resisted the urge to throw his head back and moan in annoyance. The privileged, white, male alpha just didn’t know when to stop...did he?

Combeferre was sending him warning looked from the head of the table. His eyes read that he already knew what Grantaire was thinking and was mentally telling him NO from several tables away. Grantaire sent a beaming smile his way, one in which Combeferre returned with a defeated eye roll. One Grantaire recognized he used whenever he let Eponine have her way.

“As you all know, we have addressed the horrors of the forced enslavement of omegas when it comes to the human trafficking business throughout the country before. Although it is a sensitive topic--” Enjolras’s eyes passed Jehan briefly who was now gripping Courfeyrac’s hand tightly under the table, “--I feel like it is a topic that we should discuss especially with the new proposal actually being considered.”

Grantaire wasn’t that new to the group. He remembered the day Enjolras had stormed in, declaring the government and all who are apart of it to be brainless and spineless fools who should rot in the lowest place in hell for even accepting to look over the proposal. The proposal calling for the legalization of unbound omegas being sold, bought, and used against their will in the trafficking business. 

Grantaire fought the urge to cringe at the mentioning of it all.

Enjolras straightened up, his tall frame towering over everyone who sat around him while he stood up. Enjolras was never good at staying still whenever he spoke. He always had to move, talk through his hands and through wild gestures like a madman. “The blatant and obvious dehumanizing of omegas who have yet to be bound is inexcusable. The ones who are proposing this bill are undoubtedly running hundreds of organizations that are all linked to the trafficking of omegas that are yet to be bound. These undercover organizations have gone unsuspected and just flat out ignored by the authorities--”

“What do you mean by ‘yet to be bound’ omegas?” Grantaire asked, spinning the empty bottle on it’s edge across the table. Feuilly, who was now sitting next to him and nudging him on the arm, gave him a fleeting look before Grantaire continued, his eyes glued to the bottle before him, “Are you implying that all omegas are destined to be bound at some point in their life?”

Enjolras looked--he looked fucking pissed, alright? What did Grantaire expect? For him to start clapping for actually pointing out a flaw in his brilliant speech? Still, out of the corner of Grantaire’s eye, he saw Enjolras take a deep breath before saying, “Of course not. Everyone, including omegas whether they are or bound or not, have a choice.”

“Then who are these organizations targeting? You know they sure as hell aren’t picking up bonded omegas off the streets.” Grantaire replied, shrugging a bit. It was common knowledge. No one wanted, or at least dared, to bed a bonded omega without having some sort of death wish.

“They are...targeting omegas who have,” the look that came across Enjolras’ face was painful, like forcing the words to come up and out of his mouth was a bone-breaking task. The hard look remained on Enjolras face though as he spoke, his cold eyes set directly on Grantaire, “Omegas who have engaged in sexual activities with others who they decided aren’t who they want to be bound to. That is who these organizations are targeting and these organizations are getting away with it by--”

“I believe the term you are looking for, sweet leader, is defiled.” Jehan stiffened in his seat, a movement not missed by anyone crowded around the tables. Grantaire knew he should’ve stopped there, for Jehan’s sake at least, but his mouth kept on rambling despite his better judgment, “Ruined, spoiled, profane--must I go on?” Grantaire said, still only able to send Enjolras cold, dead stares every now and then. The look Enjolras was giving him was too much and if Grantaire had a lack of sense in him he would shut up right there and then, but alas Grantaire is an idiot with no common sense whatsoever and no filter to be seen.

Enjolras’ scowl deepened intensely, “I don’t believe in that term, Grantaire.” His voice was clipped and filled with pent up rage, “The fact that you are using it right now disgusts me.”

Grantaire couldn’t hold back the laugh that came spluttering past his lips, “Oh really? I wouldn’t want to offend you with my horrid terminology. It just made more sense than calling omegas forced to sell themselves to sex hungry alphas ‘yet to be bonded’.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras snapped making Grantaire go rigid in his seat. His stomach was a bundle of nerves and he couldn’t force his shoulders to relax from their hunched position. He was stuck. Enjolras, clueless and serious as ever, obviously didn’t see Grantaire’s sudden panic and continued, “omegas who choose to engage sexually with others that have no desire to be bound to are being persecuted and sold like slaves over a corrupt system. I don’t see the humor in that at all. Alphas and even most betas are allowed the freedom to sleep with whomever they so please without--”

“Oh my gosh,” Grantaire shook his head and actually looked up to meet Enjolras’ fierce eyes, desperate to figure out what was going through this idiot’s head. “there is no way you can be so dense.”

“Dense.” Enjolras repeated, not a question like it should’ve been, but instead a single word that went ringing through Grantaire’s ears like Enjolras was challenging him to confirm what he was accusing him of. 

“Yes dense,” Grantaire repeated, a little angrier now himself. Enjolras was an alpha, that ment by default Grantaire was scared of him no matter what he did, but when he acted like this. Like the biggest idiot this world has yet to see….how could Grantaire not call him out on it?

“You are being dense and blind and I’ll tell you why.” Grantaire stated promptly, releasing the bottle from his grip and sitting up straight. “You actually believing that this law is wanting to be passed so that traffickers can take omegas who have engaged in sexual activities ‘willingly’ with others and not bound themselves to them is possibly the dumbest, most fucking uneducated explanation I have ever heard. What are you even fighting for Enjolras if you fucking don’t understand the half of it!”

The sound of wood being torn apart crackled amongst the Musain. The end of the table was destroyed by nothing but the pressure of Enjolras’ hand digging into it, but Enjolras’ only had eyes for Grantaire. His voice was more of a growl than anything as he threw the ripped piece of wood to the side, “And you do Grantaire? You know about this, huh?”

He sounded like he was mocking Grantaire. Like he already knew Grantaire didn’t know anything, which is exactly how he should sound. Grantaire wasn’t supposed to know any of it, let alone lived it at one point. Grantaire took in a shaky breath, “I know that omega don’t just fuck around to fuck around, okay? No omega is going to willingly fuck someone they don’t want to be bond with. The desire isn’t in their makeup like it is in alphas. These organizations are trying to pass this law because they need a reason to do this legally and make an even bigger profit than what they are making right now--and what better way to achieve this goal than to dehumanize unbound, unwanted, defiled omegas? Afterall, what privileged alpha is going to want an omega that has already fucked around and smells like a fucking shitter? I’m sure you can relate to that statement Enjolras.”

“I wouldn’t care. I don’t.” Enjolras’ eyes were on fire, a burning flame that whipped and scalded Grantaire every time he dared looked.

He paused, his chest suddenly tightening under the strain of everything around him. The urges he was suppressing through sheer force of will, the uneasy atmosphere in the room, the way Enjolras was looking at him like he is the scum stealing omegas off the streets--all of it is building up and suffocating Grantaire. He continued though, unable to leave a point not explained lying on the table, “Enjolras, no omega is defiled by choice, that is where you are wrong and fucking ignorant. Omegas only become defiled when they are forced into shit like this and that is the single fact that you missed and you can bet your ass the people who are going to pass this law are going to miss.”

The room was deathly quiet. Enjolras’ anger, although just a feeling wafting freely through the air, seemed to be the only thing anyone in the room could grasp onto in that moment. Enjolras had that look in his eyes, a look that Grantaire had admired from a distance for months until he finally worked up the courage to speak up and have that look be directed at him. It wasn’t the most pleased look in the word, a look of determination no doubt, but one that still left Grantaire feeling uneasy and wanting to submit to the gaze. 

Enjolras nails raked over the broken section of wood one last time before saying, his voice definitely an octave deeper than it was normally sending Grantaire into a flurry of emotions, “It won’t be passed.”

Grantaire almost wanted to believe it. The way Enjolras said it with such certainty and conviction made him want to give in and believe. Oh how he wanted to believe.

Instead, Grantaire forced a smirk onto his face and said simply, “Prove it.”

 

~~~

“There is no way you are an omega.”

“Yep, you’re right. I’ve been faking it this whole time to scam you into buying me suppressants. I believe, mademoiselle Eponine, you have just been punk’d.”

“I’m serious, R. Like--I’m seriously considering downgrading on the amount of shots I’m giving you. Don’t want you hulking out and turning into an alpha, now do we?”

Grantaire just rolled his eyes at that before stuffing his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. The rain has stopped and the night in dark, but puddles and the dew dropping off of nearby trees still make everything feel dreary and wet. The walk to Eponine and Combeferre’s house wasn't a long one, definitely not as short as the walk to the Corinthe, but nothing the three of them couldn’t handle.

“Combeferre was even shaking, well so was I, but even Combeferre was! Enjolras really can be terrifying when he wants to be--stupid asshole, but you didn’t even flinch!” Eponine exclaimed, her smile bright and genuine. It was enough that Grantaire didn’t feel the need to tell her that he was actually dying inside throughout the whole argument. 

Combeferre didn’t look as pleased, although he was probably trying his best to keep a straight face for Eponine’s sake, the disappointment still shone through as he turned to Grantaire, “You shouldn’t rile him up like that, Grantaire.”

“Why not?” Eponine snorted next to him, looping her arm around his. “You don’t like watching E/R square off? Bahorel, Feuilly, Musichetta, and I have a betting pool if you wanna join in next week.”

“You bet on me every time, right?” Grantaire asked, his smile lop-sided but still as real as ever.

“Only when I’m feeling risky.” Eponine said, nudging Combeferre a little when he only shot her a disapproving look. 

“Really R, just--be more careful, okay?” Combeferre said.

“What? Afraid Enjolras is gonna break another table? That’s his fourth one in the past six months.” Eponine added.

“No--yes--but mostly just because it isn’t wise to do so. Enjolras has a temper…”

“So what? Just sit there and let him ramble on and on when all of his points are wrong?” Grantaire piped in and actually found himself struggling to keep up with Combeferre and Eponine’s long strides down the street. Fuck tall people. “You heard what he was saying, ‘Ferre. He was all wrong and--and he didn’t even realize he was supporting the notion of what people from the court think about omegas without even realizing it!”

Combeferre sighed, his breath wafting in the cold night air for a moment or two before disappearing, “He is only trying to help, R.”

“So was I.”

Combeferre only sighed, “You don’t have to be so rude about it. I’m sure at this point everyone at in the Amis realizes and at least acknowledges your hate for alphas, you don’t exactly try and hide it. But bringing him into the equation as a ‘sex hungry alpha’ and forcing stereotypes upon him--” 

“He isn’t a child either, ‘Ferre. He can defend himself just fine. Although, back to the child thing, he can definitely act like it from time to time.” Grantaire offered, trying to lighten the sudden mood change.

Combeferre just gave him a hard look, his normally kind features twisting into one of disappointment, “He’s a lot less ignorant than you make him out to be. He does want to help, R, and he is trying the best he can.”

“Oh well, good for him. Hey, maybe we need to set up a campaign for alphas who don’t understand basic omega instincts and then try and go preach about how they know and understand--”

Grantaire was cut off by the look Combeferre was suddenly shooting him. Eponine was quiet by his side, her face a complete blank making Grantaire clueless to whether or not she was still on his side or not. 

He sighed, long and drawn out, before speaking, “I’m sorry, okay? I know he is your friend and has been for far longer than we have been friends--wait, we're friends, right ‘Ferre?”

A sigh of relief left Grantaire when Combeferre turned to him, a half smile on his face, “At times, yes.”

Grantaire laughed and Eponine was quick to join in as they make a sharp right turn towards the apartment complexes. The wind had picked up and was daring Grantaire’s beanie to fly off his head and send the bottom of Eponine’s baby blue scarf flying upwards to smack her in the face too many times to count. By the third time it happens Eponine had already declared full out war on nature itself and just like that the happy, carefree mood was back between the three as they entered the apartment building.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire gets ambushed by the (with an ee sound at the end, thank you very much) Jean Prouvaire and learns something about Eponine's past.  
> Oh yeah, and him and Enjolras fight. But that's nothing new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention this story used to be half past tense half present because I am a shifty motherfucker that can't decide what tense to use? Well, I am now, so warning to any mistakes I may have forgotten to switch to PAST tense, fuck. Also, I'm very busy with school and, oh you know, looking for lousy college to go to. But it is whatever and I'll try and update as much as you can. Your support and patience is highly valued :)  
> Also thank you all for reading and kudoing (?) and especially commenting! I love reading what you guys think especially when I make so many spelling errors in the first chapter, like, SO MANY. I'll try and go back and edit those mistakes but hopefully this chapter is better :) Enjoy!

“How do you know so much about omegas?”

Grantaire startled, his eyes bulging for a second or two before they became focused on the short, strawberry blonde in front of him. The meeting had come to an end only minutes before and Enjolras had ducked out immediately, mumbling something about finishing a paper to Combeferre--not that Grantaire was been watching him from his spot near the back table since the beginning of the meeting or anything. No, not at all. Enjolras’ departure, just as dramatic as his entrances, didn’t seem to end everyone else’s night though. As Grantaire quickly scanned the room he found it to still be packed with most of the Amis, minus Feuilly and Bahorel who ducked out early due to Bahorel’s horrid work schedule that caused him to get up at unspeakable hours.

“Gotta settle for a quickie before hitting the hay, right Feuilly?” Bahorel had joked, clapping his mate on the back. Marius had nearly choked on the shot he had just downed at Bahorel’s words before Musichetta was slamming her hand into his back while he coughed up the liquid. 

“Fuck you, asshat.” Feuilly grumbled as Bahorel threw an arm over his shoulders while headed towards the Musain doors. Feuilly continued to throw insults Bahorel’s way when the cold air hit them outside, although the smile on his face was too wide to make any of them convincing. Grantaire couldn’t help but grin at the couple as they left. They were a couple, both happy with each other in every single way shape and form and even a cynic like Grantaire could see that. Feuilly never bowed his head whenever Bahorel spoke and Bahorel never barked orders at Feuilly like he owned him. They completed one another. Not one dominated over the other like Grantaire had been brought up to believe. It was humbling almost to watch them.

Now though, Jean Prouvaire sat before Grantaire, his wrists littered with bright, colorful charm bracelets and a new, hot pink flower that Grantaire didn’t recognize was poking out of his bun. The sleeves of his oversized, mustard yellow jumper were rolled up to his elbows and judging by every exaggerated roll of his thin shoulders, Grantaire could tell he was having trouble keeping them from slipping down and over his hands. To Grantaire’s surprise though, a small and almost confused scowl was etched onto Jehan’s normally relaxed features. Jehan, while definitely capable of taking down a bitch whenever the situation deemed fitting despite being an omega, definitely kept his attitude on the more joyful side. While he wasn’t as peppy and overexcited as Joly could grow to be after just a drink or two, Jehan was definitely one of the more likeable people in the Amis.

The scowl didn’t suit him, no matter how small it seemed to be. Grantaire’s brow furrowed, “It’s common knowledge...or at least it should be. I know education systems don’t go into much detail about omegas anymore but,” 

Grantaire trailed off awkwardly and offered Jehan a slight shrug, hoping that he would dismiss Grantaire easily. Jehan just raised a question eyebrow his way, “Hmm, I know. Every since trafficking became more of business and less of a shady, back alley rig schools don’t really get around to talking about omegas without rich parents getting all fussy about the school board teaching their children ‘scandalous things’. Mostly because most omegas don’t even bother getting a proper education--they’re families don’t seem the point in it.”

Grantaire nodded. His parents as well didn’t see the point of putting him through school when his sixth birthday came about revealing him to be a weak, spineless, and overall useless omega. Instead they opted to keep him at home doing chores and keeping him as busy as possible, blinding and hiding him from the truths of the world while they made themselves busy by finding him an alpha who would pay the most to defile him. Ruin him. Grantaire was just grateful his mother saw it fit to still teach him how to read and write just in case an alpha needed him to. Grantaire swallowed, his hand absentmindedly clutching the neck of his bottle. 

“I know.” Grantaire settled on. 

“I won’t ask you why you know so much if it’s personal,” Jehan said, his voice quiet but not losing any of it’s meaning. Jehan was an omega, his bond with Courfeyrac and the strong smell of a bonded omega radiating off him said enough, but that didn’t mean Grantaire admired him any less. Jehan was three times the omega he ever was before Eponine found him. Jehan continued, lacing his fingers together on the table, “I just wanted to thank you, I guess.”

“Thank me?” Grantaire chuckled, suddenly very glad Bossuet had abandoned their table as soon as the meeting came to a close to join Marius and Musichetta at the bar for shots. “I’ll take your thanks, but I was just correcting our poor, helpless leader is all. You know being the cynic who pisses off the chief every week is sorta my thing.”

“You did call him out, and even if it was just to antagonize him I’m still thanking you.” Jehan said, his voice full of conviction. “Enjolras wants to help, I know that and I do believe that the things he talk about can truly be achieved but...he can be a little clueless at times. What you did--calling him out I mean--while I’m sure most people here thought I might’ve taken offense to your words, I’m actually glad you said it.”

Grantaire froze, his face probably visualizing paling at Jehan’s words. Jehan had never told Grantaire outright that he was a part of the trafficking business for who knew how long, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that at some point he had been. Shaking his head, Grantaire said, “I didn’t--I mean, I didn’t offend you? Did I? I’m sorry Jehan, I--”

Jehan just smiled at him, cutting him off short, “Of course not. Those days are behind me.”

Well, there's a confirmation if Grantaire ever needed it.

“So...I didn’t offend you? You can tell me Jehan, punch me in the face for being an insensitive prick if you wanna--”

Jehan laughed at that, “Enjolras actually pulled me aside after that meeting to apologize on your behalf, not that I needed an apology from you or anything, but I did find it kind of funny. Enjolras really is a character, isn’t he?”

Grantaire snorted at that, “Apologizing on my behalf? I swear golden boy needs to learn to leave his alpha privilege at the door.”

Jehan bit his lip, obviously biting back laughter, before eventually giving in with a loud snort. The snort was loud enough to alert at least half of the Musain, one being Courfeyrac who burst into a fit of giggles at hearing the loud, embarrassing sound coming out of Jehan. Jehan wasted no time glaring daggers at his mate who in return shuffled over to him, leaving Combeferre and Eponine’s side at the head of the table, and firmly wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s shoulder from behind. 

“Snorting in public again, Jehan? What’ll I do with you?” Courfeyrac said, nuzzling his nose into Jehan’s silky hair causing him to let out a shrieking laugh before turning around and smacking him half-heartedly on the shoulder.

 

~~~

“Enjolras,”

“Not now Combeferre.” Enjolras’ voice was clipped and left no room for discussion. Grantaire couldn't help but roll his eyes when Combeferre just sighed while Eponine leaned over, determination in her gaze.

“Don’t ‘not now Combeferre’ me--or him,” Eponine insisted, causing Enjolras to tear his gaze away from the folded up, tattered notebook before him. The red pen was grasped tightly in his hand and looked like it was one snarky comment away from joining the pile of destroyed pens that was already shockingly large considering the meeting wasn't even halfway over yet. Eponine leaned back, her tense shoulders hitting the back of her chair roughly, “You were mean, unjustly so, and you owe Marius an apology.”

Enjolras threw her a strangled look, “I’m not apologizing, Eponine. He’s not a child and--”

“And you aren’t a bully.” Grantaire piped in, for once sitting shoulder to shoulder to Eponine instead of grouped in the back playing cards with Bahorel and Feuilly. Grantaire rolled his shoulders back uncomfortably, the seat felt weird. New and unfamiliar in every way. “Wait, I take that back. You do have bullying tendencies every now and then.”

“I wasn’t bullying him.” Enjolras snapped, his face almost matching the bright red cuffs of his jumper as his eyes narrowed down on Grantaire. Joly hefted out a long sigh, a sigh that was almost unanimously known as the 'here we go again' sigh. Enjolras didn’t seem to notice though, “I’m not going to sit here and listen to Pontmercy lament about his never ending crush on his own mate like it’s some kind of secret at this point--”

“Let the kid swoon, Apollo.” Grantaire cut in, throwing his arm around Eponine’s shoulder with ease. She shuffled out of it quickly, but not before playfully knocking him on the side of his head with the back of her wrist. “He’s full of love, floating with it in fact--why bother trying to hold him down?”

“Because there are more pressing things to discuss. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that though.” Enjolras said simply, like it is common fucking knowledge that every second not planning a rebellion was time wasted. 

Grantaire snorted, “Oh no, a cynic like me accepting that this world has a chance? What a thought--”

“For God sake’s Grantaire, why the hell do you think we meet here every week? To drink and joke, is that it?” Enjolras snapped.

Grantaire was silent. The rest of the Musain followed in suit, eyeing the pair cautiously.

Enjolras’ face suddenly became hard, the finer details of his features standing out even more than usual, highlighting and radiating the anger within him, “I wish….I wish for just one night Grantaire you could actually take what we do here seriously instead of drinking yourself into oblivion. I suppose that is too much to ask.”

It wasn't until Enjolras was done talking that Grantaire could read something on Enjolras’ expression. Something behind the anger...something softer that is masked behind everything Enjolras has and will fight for. Something Grantaire was bound never to see.

Grantaire just shook his head, suddenly the feeling of wanting to guzzle down some drink, even despite Enjolras’ hurtful words, that’ll make him have the worst headache in his life in the morning seemed very tempting…

He was suddenly too weak, too beat down, to bother and fight his instincts and let his gaze divert away from Enjolras until he was staring at the table below. He had submitted. Lost the battle to his own nature he was born with. He wasn't upset about it--it’s not like he ever had a chance in beating Enjolras’ fearsome gaze anyway. 

“I'll never understand you.” Grantaire said, his voice way too quiet to sound anything like sarcasm. Grantaire forced his limbs to move away from Enjolras, even though every muscle and fiber of him being is pulled him towards him, and at that point Grantaire worried that it wasn't just the fact that his basic instincts told him to do so. 

Enjolras was the light and Grantaire wasn't necessarily the dark--just hopelessly lost in it. And what lost man didn't make his way towards the light when it was lying right before him?

He could feel Eponine’s worrying gaze on his back as he slunk towards the bar, neck still snapped down and gaze still lingering towards the floor.

 

~~~

Enjolras and Grantaire’s little, or not so little, rivalry didn’t begin out of nowhere. Grantaire didn’t storm into the Musain one day and declared Enjolras a hopeless, naive fool nor did Enjolras immediately strike him down as a useless drunkard with no ideals. They had met at a transitioning period in Grantaire’s life, a point where even being near another alpha, bonded or not, sent a wake of fearing piling up and over Grantaire’s entire subconscious. Hell, he had barely been able to look the man in the eye when Eponine and Combeferre had first pulled him to the meetings all those months ago.

He still remembered seeing Enjolras for the first time.

There was nothing monumental or staggeringly memorable about the event. It just happened to be stuck to the back of Grantaire’s mind like a splinter embedded deep within one’s finger there to stay whether one liked it or not. 

Enjolras had been standing next to Jehan and Courfeyrac, obviously is deep conversation when he suddenly turned around to reveal himself. Grantaire could’ve almost laughed at how obvious the man was without even realizing it. The thick, blonde locks of hair illuminated even within the dimly lit Musain along with the shockingly bright blue eyes were enough to catch Grantaire’s artistic eye from across a heavily packed airport. He was tall, lean, and not heavily muscled--but still looked like he was able to hold his own. The man was gorgeous, no one with a sense of sight could deny that, but the multiple things that drew Grantaire towards Enjolras didn’t end there. Not by a long shot.

Grantaire had remembered asking Eponine before leaving for the meeting who was this so called ‘amazing leader’ that Combeferre held to such high respects. The small smirk on Eponine’s mouth when she told him that he would know upon entering the Musain threw Grantaire off at first, but once he saw the infamous Enjolras Grantaire couldn’t exactly say her words had been untrue.

Enjolras looked, smelt, and lived leadership. If there was such a thing. Everything he did, every movement he made or gesture, held an unspoken hint of power to it making everything more surreal and daunting. The way he spoke, like each word meant something to him--meant that he could truly make what he was saying happen if only he spoke it right--mesmerized Grantaire. He had joked to Eponine after the first meeting that people should have to pay to listen to a man speak like that, but as the weeks ticked by and his addiction grew more and more out of hand Grantaire started to realize it wouldn’t be that absurd to have to pay to watch Enjolras talk. Seriously, they could make a business out of it if Enjolras would ever in a million years approve.

Watching Enjolras speak--it was like being in a movie. Almost, that is. A movie where only you were watching, you were the only one that mattered. The words coming out of Enjolras’ mouth were directed and would affect you in a way. It was impossible not to feel like you were flying when Enjolras spoke of his beliefs, whether you believed them of not didn’t matter. Grantaire learned this the hard way of course, for he did not believe in a word that came out of Enjolras mouth. But his belief in Enjolras himself almost made that fact feel infinitesimal.

Enjolras had approached him during his and Eponine’s third meeting (Grantaire refused to miss one after coming to the first, much to Eponine and Combeferre’s delight). Despite being a fixture of light and hope in human form, Enjolras had startled Grantaire out of a conversation with Joly and Bossuet in what was now his regular table near the back.

Enjolras didn’t sit down to introduce himself. He stood above Grantaire, not intentionally of course, but the simple action didn’t do Grantaire any favors when it came to controlling his basic instincts. 

“You are new here.” Enjolras said. Not a greeting. Not a question. A statement.

Grantaire gulped, “Yes.” His mouth could’ve seem to form any other words, not that his mind could particularly come up with anything either.

“He’s been coming for three weeks, E. He’s a good guy, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Bossuet replied simply, taking a swig from his bottle.

Enjolras nodded and pulled back his broad shoulders, not as wide as Bahorel’s but enough that Grantaire’s eyes widened at the simple action, before his eyes wandered over Grantaire hunched over posture with a critical eye. “Welcome.” He said at last allowing Grantaire to breath again. “My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I’m Enjolras.”

My apologies. The words rang in Grantaire’s mind causing every fiber of his being to suddenly become alert. My apologies. An alpha--a beam of pure and precious light--had apologized to something like him. Grantaire’s body--the very nature his mind had been forced to adapt to and know--rejected the very idea and made the reflex of getting down on his knees and begging the blonde for forgiveness almost unbearable to ignore. 

To beg for forgiveness...for offering forgiveness to an unworthy being like himself.

Grantaire blinked, “I know.” He pursed his lips, his eyes wavering down to his hands that lay chapped and dry on the table. “I’m Grantaire.”

Don’t give your name. You have no name. Your name means nothing in the presence of him. Every muscle in his body seemed to scream at him.

Enjolras nodded again, offering Grantaire a small and rather awkward smile before saying something to Joly and Bossuet and making his way back towards the head of the table. As soon as he left Grantaire’s mind cleared. He could think like a beta once again.

Of course, as the months drew by Grantaire slowly, but surely, became more accustomed to Enjolras--him being the only unbonded alpha in the group. It got to the point where Grantaire didn’t feel the need to lower his head or agree with the nonsense Enjolras was spewing. He corrected him and called him out on shit he was wrong on when he needed to. Enjolras was thankful for it at first, obviously happy that a new member of the group was participating in discussions. 

That is until he learned that Grantaire wasn’t so much participating as he was just striking Enjolras’ ideas down. 

Grantaire couldn’t remember their first argument and he had no real need or want to remember anyway. It was a small change, Grantaire decided, a small difference that led the two to realize and accept their differences. To be rivals, but not enemies. To argue, but never fight. Well--maybe a little fighting--but mostly their arguments stuck to the basic Grantaire riling Enjolras up and calling him out about something stupid, and Enjolras taking the bait without so much as a hint of restrain.

It became routine, and while it could suck at times--you know, hating each other’s guts and all--it did what Eponine had dragged him there in the first place to achieve. It made him stronger. Enjolras made him stronger. Made him have hope for a better future. 

Enjolras filled Grantaire’s hollow, weak shell with light. And although Grantaire didn’t accept the light when presented to him, he basked in it. Revelled in it. He could never accept the light, not unless he wanted to lose himself along with it, but he would hold onto it and keep it close until the day he died. And even though the thought terrified Grantaire, he knew that no one could tear him away from it now. 

And that, for Grantaire at least, was enough for now.

 

~~~

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Enjolras, despite his great and noble intentions, didn’t like omegas.

Sure, he treated Feuilly and Jehan with as much respect as he would anyone else, but Grantaire came to suspect that was only because they were already bonded and he had known them for years. 

Grantaire had been following the Amis around for a year by then and was well past the point of just being considered ‘another member’. He was their friend and although the thought of actually having friends that weren’t Combeferre or Eponine shocked him at first, Grantaire had come to love and accept it. These were his friends, his family in a way. The only people he could count on.

He noticed little quirks about everyone:

Joly loved white peonies. No matter how many flowers Jehan forced into his hair no other flower made Joly’s lips quirk the way they did when the white, blossoming flower was tucked behind his ear. Joly was adamant on his hate for all things nature, them being unsanitary and all, but the joy he tried to hide on his face wasn’t at all convincing whenever Jehan bounded into the Musain holding a basket full of the white flowers.

Musichetta was master at playing the piano. No one knew where, how long, or if she was still receiving lessons but every year at the annual Musain New Year’s party (when she is drunk enough) she would play bits and pieces of Beethoven’s moonlight sonata with her eyes closed and a smile wide on her face. Sometimes Combeferre (if he was also drunk enough) would join her in a duet on the other side of the piano.

Feuilly was the only person to have mastered how to beat Bahorel when it comes to arm wrestling. Enough said there.

Bossuet loved to gamble. He was horrible at it and usually paid the price for it. Everything to his shaved head to the random goat he brought to the Musain one meeting could testify to that. 

Cosette was a Disney princess in real life. Also she could kick anyone's ass. If she was angry enough. 

Bahorel owned a motorcycle and let Feuilly and Grantaire, both of them being the most artistic in the group, design his helmets. Bahorel now had four flower-printed helmets in his garage.

Enjolras was no exception to this. If anything, Grantaire noticed more about Enjolras than anyone else in the Amis.

Enjolras made the strangest gestures when he spoke. They were justified, sometimes, and do make people more drawn towards him--if that was what he was aiming for. It was like all the passion welled up inside him was being released in spastic movements. Grantaire found it terrifyingly endearing and tried his best not to smile whenever Enjolras got out of hand with his gestures. (The worst time being when Marius got a fist to the face when approaching Enjolras from behind during a rather passionate declaration--big mistake.)

Enjolras was mean-spirited. To everyone. Naturally. It didn’t take Grantaire long to realize that Enjolras didn’t save all of his pent up rage just for him. He cared though. He may yell and scold people who disagree with him at rallies but--he cared. He may be an idiot sometimes, but he cared.

Enjolras hated water--or just the aspect of being wet, Grantaire wasn’t quite sure. Whether it was swimming, being in rain, getting a water balloon chucked at him on his birthday (if anyone asked it definitely, positively was not Grantaire’s brilliant idea)--Enjolras hated it. Maybe it was what water did to his hair. It made it puffy and stick up at awkward angles like a child who just rolled out of bed. In short, he was like a huge, angry cat when he got wet. Again...terrifyingly endearing.

He also had a horrible habit of telling Marius to shut up during the meetings whenever he was stressed. Very stressed. Which would be fine, he had every right as the leader to shush his followers when they got out of hand. The only problem was most of the time when Enjolras hastily shouted at Marius to "shut the fuck up, Marius" he was, at least ninety five percent of the time, the only person not talking. 

Enjolras hated nicknames. Grantaire’s nicknames in particular. Apollo, Sunshine, Golden Boy, Chief, Fearless leader, Little Red, Razzy. Enough said.

And lastly, the one that stood out to Grantaire the most… Enjolras didn’t like omegas. Or, at least, he had some kind of a problem with them that Grantaire couldn’t decode. Every rally, every speech, and every other event the Amis hosted that Grantaire found himself dragged to the obvious discomfort was evident on Enjolras’ usually stoic expression whenever he was directly approached or around an omega. No, he didn’t turn them away or blatantly ignore an omega who sought him out, even though as an alpha he technically had every right to, but the way his mannerisms around omegas changed was all too revealing for Grantaire to simply ignore. The way his nose scrunched up every now and again as if blocking out their smell, his eyes diverted to literally anywhere else but the omega standing before him, his hands fumbling almost nervously by his side as his feet swayed back and forth on his heels. Every mannerism that made Enjolras, well, Enjolras flew out the window.

Grantaire didn’t know whether to be hurt or relieved by the obvious discomfort Enjolras had when around omegas. Probably hurt, although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone who asked.

He focused on being angry about it instead.

“I mean--who the fuck does he think he is?” Grantaire slurred, obviously too drunk to be having this conversation. His mind was spinning and his fingers fumbled numbly over the cold glass of his bottle still wrapped up in his grasp. Grantaire didn’t care, instead he took another swig. “The fucking leader ready to fight and stand for omegas across the world can’t stand to look one in the eye--what a joke.”

Grantaire realized he couldn’t make this too personal without giving himself away. Being drunk and raging about it seemed like the safest way to go though.

Joly bit his lip nervously, turning back and staring at the ongoing party behind him for a brief moment before turning back to Grantaire. It was late, Courfeyrac and Jehan’s house was still packed due to it being Jehan’s birthday party and no one really having the heart to leave--not like anyone was in a hurry to anyway. The couple’s basement was surprisingly spacious, big enough to fit in tables for food and furniture to lounge in until the night got dark. Him, Joly, and Bossuet were crowded around a small table near the back--not very different from their normal positions at the Musain. Musichetta had been with them for most of the party, but ducked out a while to go dance with Cosette and Eponine who had made a makeshift dance floor out of pieces of cardboard they found shoved in the back of Courfeyrac and Jehan’s garage.

In short, everyone was plastered.

Joly, obviously the soberest out of the three of them, spoke quietly over the blaring music behind them, “I don’t expect you to understand, and I don’t blame you at all for judging Enjolras’ not-so-subtle discomfort when it comes to omegas. Chetta, B, and I have only known these guys for around two years ourselves and even we aren’t really sure what Enjolras’ beef is. Although, it is kind of easy to guess.”

“Guess?” Grantaire asked. “Yep, it’s pretty easy to see that although he is willing to fight--when is he not ready to fight?--for omegas that doesn't necessarily mean he can shake off the superiority he feels over them. I get it. Pretty shitty, but you know, instincts and all that shit.”

Bossuet was shaking his head now, “No R, you got it wrong. I think so...I hope you got it wrong, anyway.”

When Grantaire gave his friend a funny look, Joly cut it, “Come on R, you know Enjolras. You two might not see eye to eye all the time, but you must know by now he has good intentions. He’s intimidating as fuck but superiority complex? He would be the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world if he did.”

Grantaire shrugged again, “He’s an alpha. No matter how much he believes in his causes nothing is going to change that.”

Grantaire knew he was contradicting himself. Who was he--a disguised omega fighting his instincts daily--to judge and say that Enjolras couldn’t fight his instincts as well?

Joly spoke again after a long pause, “I think he’s afraid, R. He’s afraid that what you are saying right now could potentially become his reality.”

“Afraid?” The words ‘afraid’ and ‘Enjolras’ didn’t seem to exist as one in Grantaire’s mind. "Enjolras is afraid?”

“He hates the alpha superiority complex as well you do, you know. All of us do.” Bossuet chimed in. “Perhaps being around omegas made him uncomfortable because of how they act around him--not that they can help it of course!” Bossuet is quick to correct himself. 

Joly just nodded and said, “He doesn’t wanna be looked up upon because he is an alpha, R, he wants to be respected for what he stands for. That is the most rational answer I can come up with.”

“So what? Being uncomfortable around them is the way to go?”

“Respecting them.” Joly corrected him, “He is respecting them in the only way he knows how. That being...keeping his distance. The last thing he wants is to persuade them to follow him because they fear him, or at least feel obligated to because he is an alpha.”

Grantaire groaned, he couldn’t help it. He was too drunk to hide his feelings, not when Enjolras was once again so wrong. “What does he think of omegas anyway? That they are a bunch of useless, spineless toys that he could potentially control just by throwing them a scornful look? Omegas are fucking people too, hell he is fighting for that notion! How is treating them like they are a bunch of hurt children going to help them? It’ll only make them feel less human and more like an object. Like property. Who does he--”

“Grantaire,” Bossuet cut in, suddenly sounding way more sober than Grantaire remembered. Which brought up the question--how sober was he? “If you wanna fight Enjolras he is right over there, don’t take your anger out on us.”

Bossuet sounded so uncharacteristically serious that Grantaire couldn’t help but shake his head and immediately apologize, not because his instincts told him to do so, but because he needed to. 

Joly and Bossuet easily forgave him, but not before agreeing with everything he was saying. Joly even spoke up, “You should tell Enjolras that. He might not wanna hear it, but if anyone is gonna fight Enjolras head on it’s you.”

Grantaire laughed at that, lifting his bottle for cheers before swiveling around in his chair and letting his eyes scan the party.

His eyes flutter over to Enjolras for a second who was pressed up against the corner of the room, an untouched bottle of beer in his hands and a scowl on his face. The scowl wasn't a deep and serious as it usually was when Combeferre forced him to attend what he deemed ‘unecessary social events’. At least it’s an indication that he’s at least trying to enjoy himself. Typical. 

Joly was right, Grantaire should call Enjolras out but he’ll wait for another time to do that. Right then, his eyes land on Jehan who, on one side, was being forced to put on a ridiculous party hat by a laughing Bahorel while Eponine shoved a cupcake containing a single candle into his hands on the other side of him. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile at the scene.

“Come on, looks like we're about to sing to the birthday boy.” Grantaire said, abandoning his spot on the table and headed towards Jehan who was now wrapped up in Courfeyrac’s arms, a lovely smile plastered onto his face.

 

~~~

 

“How’d you meet Combeferre?”

The question’s enough to make Eponine stir and spill a good half of her chicken soup on the fuzzy armrest of the chair before letting out a groan. Her sharp eyes met Grantaire, “You made me spill.”

“I noticed.” Grantaire said, not trying to hide his amusement as Eponine stood up from the chair and headed to the kitchen for a wash cloth. Grantaire remained on the couch, sore limbs spread out against the duvet he had stolen from a random shelf in Eponine’s closet. The covers were warm and remind Grantaire of the Musain because of its deep brown color. Grantaire snuggled into it shamelessly.

When Eponine returned the bowl of soup was nowhere to be seen and she hazardly cleaned up the spill in less than a minute. Probably not enough to actually get the stain out, but that’s something that Combeferre will probably deal with later if they are both being honest. When she was done, she wasted no time making Grantaire scooch over to make room for her under the blanket. He complied easily and only a couple beats of silence go by before Eponine sighed, “Why do you ask?”

Grantaire shrugged against her shoulder, “Don’t know. I feel like I’ve known you two too long not to know.”

Eponine didn't necessarily agree, but something about the stiffness of her shoulder against this told him that she didn't think he is wrong to think that way either. Eventually though, after minutes of comfortable silence, Eponine said, “I’ve known him since grade school--no, middle school. Sixth grade I think is when he transferred to my district?”

Grantaire nodded, “Was it love at first sight?” He asked jokingly.

Eponine’s face remained neutral, “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean? I mean, I know not every couple decided upon meeting each other that they are instantly going to be a thing. Feuilly told me once that he and Bahorel had to be friends for years before they finally decided to tie the knot--”

“We really didn’t have a choice. We did--we did, R--but...” Eponine trailed off, her voice light but also holding something else that Grantaire couldn’t exactly put his finger on. It wasn’t sadness, obviously Eponine didn’t regret her relationship with Combeferre, but there was definitely something there that Grantaire had failed to notice between the two before. After a moment of silence, Eponine continued, “I never told you--never thought it was relevant because...well, we worked it out. But, Ferre and I are soulbonded.”

Grantaire sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, his eyes looking down to Eponine at his side. He gulped, trying to stomach his reaction as best as he could. This wasn’t bad. Soulbonding wasn’t bad, but it was definitely not as common today as it was in the olden days. Actually Grantaire couldn’t remember the last pair of people he heard that were actually soulbonded. If Grantaire strained his mind, he faintly remembers hearing his grandma talk about how her step-sister found out she was soulbonded by offering to help a man who had fallen down in the middle of the street on a rainy day. The two were married almost immediately--it was customary. No one, not anyone on either side of the two’s family, saw any reason to wait.

They were soulbonded. Which Grantaire could only guess meant they were destined to get along without problem. Without even properly knowing one another. Even now the thought was hard to wrap around Grantaire’s mind, but it wasn't much of a concern anymore. Ever since the law declaring that only soulbonded mates were allowed to be married and have children was banned due to a decline in population, ultimately allowing anyone and everyone to choose whoever they saw fit as a mate (that is if you were an alpha or beta...equality for all could only come so quick), the issue never presented a battle to Grantaire.

Sure, every once in a blue moon soulbonded pairs found each other, but the chances of that happening was too small to have a law saying that finding this person was the only way you were allowed to have a happy life. It wasn't a bad thing, per say. It just took away the feeling of being able to feel like you have a choice in who you want to be with. Grantaire couldn’t imagine in a million years that a couple as happy as Eponine and Ferre could be soulbonded.

“Did you, like, know right away?” Grantaire asked, carefully.

Eponine nodded, “I knew the moment I bumped into him on the way to the lunchroom on his first day.”

“But I--” Grantaire shook his head, his thoughts nothing but a foggy haze at this point as he tried to tie his mind around the situation. “You told me once you and Ferre didn’t get together until your college years.”

“Yep,” Eponine answered, her voice flat and emotionless. Grantaire let out a startled breath and Eponine sent him a disapproving glare, “I’ve gotten enough grief over this situation, R. The last person I need to be looked down upon for rejecting my mate--my soulmate--for so long is you. Okay?”

Grantaire was quick to shoot her down, “No Ep, no, that’s not what I meant. I would love you even if you fucking murdered someone, okay? I don’t give a shit about who you want to be with or how long it took you--I could care less as long as you’re happy.”

Eponine smiled at that, “I knew you loved me.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes at that, shoving her playfully, “So...soulbonded, huh? How old-fashioned of you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Eponine growled, tugging her knees up to her chest under the blankets, “The feeling, or I guess the obviousness of it, has gone down substantially since ‘Ferre and I became actual mates. You know, actually accepting each other and all. But at first we were nothing but soulbonded, a constant pull between us that was practically yelling at us to seal the deal constantly. It was torture. Everyone around us always knew it seemed, everyone could feel it in the air that we were destined to be with each other. The pull didn’t end until we actually became mates either.”

“That sounds like shit.”

Eponine huffed out a sigh, “Imagine going through middle school and high school without ever forgetting or at least being aware of another person. Every breath they take. What they are feeling. Just...constant knowledge of this other person that you feel like you don’t even know yet already be so close to them that it didn't even matter.”

“That’s...a serious invasion to privacy.” Grantaire settled on.

“No kidding,” Eponine agreed easily. “I hated the four-eyed smartass at first. Always following me around, reminding me of our stupid bond, pretending to worry about my safety whenever I got into some shady shit.”

“So, ‘Ferre accepted you before you accepted him?”

Eponine buried her chin into the duvet, a look a shame sweeping across her usually stoic features, “It’s different now, okay? I love him more than I would care to admit, but it’s the truth. I’m crazy for the revolutionary idiot.” Her voice sounded small. “But yes, at the time I resented him. Deeply.”

“Why?” Grantaire immediately regretted the question once it came past his lips, but Eponine just shrugged.

“I was dumb, stubborn….not much different from how I behave now I suppose. But at the time it wasn’t justified. I thought I was in love with… someone else. Someone who wouldn’t even look my way no matter how hard I tried to get his attention, and then to have this random teacher’s pet all over me all the time telling me about our sacred bond. Our destinies. The path we have to take together. I was pissed. Confused and just plain out mad that nothing could seem to ever go my way.”

“‘Ferre said those things?” Grantaire asked, doubting that someone who hung out around people who could easily be described as radical and pro-everything equality for fun (or to make a ‘change’, or try to) could say something like that. 

“He’s different now. His parent’s were old-fashioned and loaded his head up with a bunch of bullshit, but don’t worry.” Eponine grinned, sly and familiar. “I knocked it out of him as soon as we started hanging out. I told it to him straight at the beginning of college when our friend groups started intermixing that if he wanted us to be together and impress his parents or whatever, that we were doing it my way. I wasn’t about to base our whole relationship off of some stupid bond. I wanted to know him first and see if I actually liked him...if he liked me. Which, trust me, I told him too many times to count that he wouldn’t.”

Grantaire smiled at that, already imagining a teenage Eponine smacking Combeferre on the head every time he tried to justify their relationship by bringing up the fact that they were soulbonded. Eponine could be a sweetheart when the time needed it, but deep down she was a stone cold bitch and although Grantaire would admit that he didn’t understand how Combeferre and Eponine worked when he first met them--well, all those thoughts are out the window now. Combeferre was serious where Eponine was more than a little rambunctious. Combeferre used reason and logic while Eponine wouldn’t hesitate to fuck a bitch up if she felt like it was the right thing to do. They balanced each other out almost perfectly. The fact that they were soulbonded didn’t seem to be as shocking as Grantaire once thought it to be.

“And,” Eponine continued, a smug look on her face that Grantaire didn’t necessarily know if he was ready for or not. “In case you were wondering how I even tolerated Ferre breathing down my neck all the time back then--you can thank Enjolras for that. He went to our school too, you know.”

Grantaire struggled not to gape so obviously, but by judging the wide grin on Eponine’s face he already knew he failed, “What?”

“I might’ve knocked all of the shit soulbonding ideas out of Combeferre, but I sure as hell wasn’t the one who filled his head up with new ones.” Eponine said simply. “Enjolras was the one who normally told Combeferre to, and I quote, ‘fight the fucking system’ and not even bother with me if he didn’t like me for me.”

Grantaire let out a choked laugh because of course. The thought of Enjolras in sixth grade preaching to Combeferre about the wrongness of the world, one being the notion that soulbonded pairs were the only right pairs, delighted Grantaire way more than it should’ve. They had never really brought up the idea of soulbonded pairs in the Musain, mostly because it wasn’t a problem anymore. People were free to be with whomever they liked, soulbonded or not. The idea of bringing it up and debating over the topic with Enjolras at the next meeting or so still made Grantaire’s blood boil with anticipation.

Grantaire shifted closer to Eponine, his eyes wandering towards the open window where the sun was barely peeking out over the horizon, “So the reason you and Ferre took so long to sit down and talk about your feelings and the predicament you two faced was because of our dear leader? Why am I not surprised? He is like the love police. Or destroyed, take your pick. First you and Ferre, now Sette and M--” 

“Normally I’m with you when it comes to trash talking Enjolras.” Eponine said. “But right now I gotta disagree. Even though he definitely wasn’t looking out for me back then, he still helped. The last thing I needed back then was Ferre telling me about how our future was going to be when I obviously wasn’t ready for it. If it wasn’t for Enjolras pulling him back all the time and telling him to throw away all of those ideas about what soulbonding is, my resentment for ‘Ferre would've probably just grown. Or I would’ve slugged him in the face.”

“Sounds like you,” Grantaire concluded, still a little taken aback to Eponine saying that Enjolras actually helped her. Eponine would rather chew on rocks then admit someone helped her, let alone that Enjolras, of all people, helped her. “So, if you um, don’t mind me asking…”

“You wanna know how it felt, don’t you?” Eponine snorted, rolling her eyes while chipping away at her overgrown fingernails. “If I had a dime for every time someone asked me that million dollar question. How does it feel to meet the one you are destined to be with forever and ever and ever?”

“You don’t have to tell me, Ep. Just--”

“I’m just pulling your chain, R.” Eponine said, pinching his cheek. The sun was setting fast out the window. “I’ll tell you what I tell everyone. It’s like, feeling everything for the first time, but in greater detail. You can hear everything. Every little movement, every breath, every heartbeat is amplified. Same goes for the other four senses. It’s like you’ve been awaken from this deep sleep you didn’t even know you were in. All of you, every fiber of your being, is dragged towards that one other person like a reflex. It’s--well, actually it fucking sucks and is a little terrifying suddenly having this need to be around this person. You have no control over it, you can’t switch it off or block it out, it’s always right here with you. They are, I mean. So yeah, at first terrifying, but then it bleeds into utter bliss when you realize that this is the person you are destined to be with. I know, sappy, way too sappy for me, but it’s true. Once I finally accepted Ferre instead of insistently blocking him out I felt...happy? Complete almost. Like my whole life was building up to that one moment.”

“When you met?”

“When we accepted each other.” Eponine corrected him, laying her head on his shoulder. “And that’s pretty much it.”

“Pretty much?”

“The shortened version of how it felt, yes. It’s not easy to explain a fucking out of body experience ‘Taire with just a couple sentences.” Eponine paused for a moment, her limbs stretching out from under the blanket and her arms reaching up and over the side. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile. He swore Eponine was a cat in a past life.

“So, enough about me.” Eponine concluded, her eyes drooping with lack of sleep. Combeferre had been working late nights at work for the past couple of weeks, and although Eponine would never in million years hint at even complaining or bringing it up, everyone knew she slept better when he was here. Still, her eyes were wide and blue when she faced Grantaire, “How are you feeling?”

Grantaire shrugged, raking a hand through his hair. He needed a shower, “Fine. How do I smell?”

To anyone else this would be a friendly question. Or at least a normal question with simple answered like, yes you fucking smell like something crawled into a sewer and died, but to them it was different. 

What Grantaire smelled like to the rest of the world meant everything.

Eponine was never a subtle person and never tried to be. Instead, she stuck her nose into the crook of Grantaire’s neck and sniffed, rather noisily, before pulling back with a thoughtful expression, “I wouldn’t deem you necessarily shower worthy but...you don’t smell too off to me. Has anyone given you funny looks?”

Yes. “Not that I’ve noticed.” Grantaire said with a shrug. Worrying Eponine while she was already suffering from sleep deprivation was cruel. 

Eponine bit her lip, hard. Something she only did when bearing bad news. Grantaire, unfortunately, knew the look too well and waited for Eponine’s words to come out and strike him down, “Mont hasn’t called back yet. He left me a message about shipments a couple days ago but...they didn’t sound too good.”

Grantaire let out a sigh, strangled, “How much more supplies do we have left?”

Eponine grimaced, “Maybe enough for the rest of the month. If we're careful. Combeferre was able to call up an old friend of his to get you the shampoos you need but the suppressants…”

The ones that really mattered are more than scarce. Grantaire finished her sentence off easily in his own mind, trying hard not to let his panic show. Montparnasse wasn’t the most reliable when it came to getting Eponine the suppressants Grantaire needed to blend in. Sure, he didn’t ask questions and when he got them the supplies they worked, but that is about where his dependency as a dealer ended. He was always known to be late bringing the suppressants into Eponine’s hands--always. But these past few months Eponine hasn’t even gotten one shipment, a new record of neglect even for Montparnasse, and Grantaire would be lying if he admitted that he was starting to feel the effects of it all. 

His last injections was two months ago and his mind was starting to doze off more and more the longer he was kept away from it.

“It’s fine.” Grantaire said, firmly. “I-I can go another month. We need to save what we have for when it gets really bad.”

It being heat. Thank God he hadn’t had to go through that while in Eponine and Combeferre’s company.

Eponine just nodded though in understanding, yet her eyes still look suspiciously towards him when she leaned back down against his shoulder and flipped on the TV. They eventually decided on watching the ending to The Princess Bride on some random TV station in hopes of dozing off before it got too late. Eponine, to Grantaire’s relief, was asleep before Westley and Buttercup make their beautiful and magical reunion. Grantaire, on the other hand, stayed up much longer than he probably should considering his horrible work schedule the next day. 

His eyes flicker between Westley and Buttercup’s final kiss on the screen and the daunting blackness overtaking the sky outside the window before surrendering and falling asleep.

 

~~~

 

“Grantaire, put the bottle down.”

This was the part where Grantaire snorted at Enjolras’ orders, say something snarky, and tipped the rest of whatever he was drinking down in no more than a couple gulps. The harshness though, the obvious disapproval and unwarranted anger in Enjolras’ voice when he said these words week after week was missing, halting Grantaire from doing anything drastic. His voice was weak--Enjolras’ mighty, shattering voice is weak.

Grantaire put the bottle down.

Enjolras nodded, his eyes closing for a bit before slowly reopening and revealing a whole new wave of fatigue Grantaire was shocked he didn’t notice at the beginning of the meeting. He had thought it strange that Courfeyrac came bounding up to the front of the table after Enjolras sat down after the first ten minutes of the meeting and nearly took over the rest of the meeting, Combeferre helping him along the way of course. He guessed as Enjolras’ closest friends they were able to see how drawn out Enjolras was and didn’t even have to ask him if they needed to take over, not that Enjolras protested when they did.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire’s voice sounded foreign, even to his own ears. There was a sudden softness to it, like he is coaxing Enjolras to divert his attention to him. Grantaire’s back immediately went stiff as a sudden lump in his throat grew, “Are you alright?”

Enjolras blinked at him, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You should go home and, you know, get some rest. You look wrecked.”

No it was time for Enjolras to snap at him and tell him that he was wrong, that nothing that someone says under the influence could sway him. Unlike Grantaire though, Enjolras only met their ‘usual conversations’ halfway, “You as well. Sleep off your…” Enjolras hand waved at Grantaire’s forgotten bottle. “Will you, will you please Grantaire? Please, just don’t drink yourself silly, not tonight. I can’t--Please.”

Grantaire is frozen yet he still somehow managed to nod, slow and confused, “Okay.” 

Enjolras blinks again, the thick bags under his eyes becoming more prominent each time he opens them. His skin is a sickly pale and his hair seems to have lost some of it’s shine. He gave Grantaire one last look, a look that is not neutral, nor angry or happy, but something entirely new before turning around and leaving Grantaire alone at the bar once again.

 

The announcement of the law stating that defiled omegas, if they ‘so choose’, consent to being a part of any trafficking business (the legal papers so kindly leave out the trafficking part in the written decree) where they can sell their ‘services’ to paying, willing customers was now officially legal. Enjolras came to the meeting next with the same fatigue and weariness in his posture, but a new fire was ablaze in his eyes.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan when Enjolras and Grantaire's fight gets a little too real. Eponine gets pissed. And Grantaire has a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys but believe it or not I'm actually getting pretty close to the part where I stopped writing this :)))) (it was at around 38k) so hopefully after posting another chapter or two I get inspired to finish this ha.
> 
> (also, this is minor, but there may be some slight trigger warning in this chapter. Go to the end notes for more info.)

  
  


CHAPTER 3

 

Montparnasse, according to a few of his associates Eponine was able to get in touch with, say that he had practically dropped off the face of the earth. Grantaire couldn’t remember the last time Eponine had chewed someone out so viciously over the phone.

 

He showered with the shampoo  _ three  _ times a day instead of two. Always with cold water. Just to be safe.

  
  


~~~

 

How did he always do this? Or how did he even manage it? Combeferre asked him to do one thing.  _ One thing and he couldn’t even pull it off.  _ The meeting only had fifteen minutes left and Grantaire couldn’t just sit back and watch the clock tick by, could he? 

 

_ One thing--don’t talk to Enjolras.  _ Combeferre knew better than to ask Grantaire to not antagonize, or not correct Enjolras because that won’t be enough. Ever. Hell, him and Enjolras could find a way to fight about the weather if they tried hard enough. Not talking or confronting each other at all seemed like the easy solution. 

 

Or did.

 

“Look Apollo, I don’t wanna fight you on this,” Grantaire said, his gaze absently drifting toward Combeferre who already had the side of his face cradled in one hand. Enjolras’ stress over the law being passed had taken a toll on him as well, and Grantaire didn’t have the willpower to complete the one task Combeferre told him  _ not  _ to do. Eponine was going to kill him after this.

 

But now, Enjolras was staring at him from a table or two away. His body had gone rigid and his towering frame stood over everyone else. Grantaire hefted out a sigh, “I know I’ve said that before, but I really don’t, okay? Just-- _ please,  _ you have to realize you can’t just brawl your way out of this law. That isn’t how it works and you know it.”

 

“I’m not physically fighting, Grantaire.” Enjolras snapped, his tired, wide eyes looking down on him. Grantaire shivers under the fearsome gaze, every muscle in his body screaming at him to look down. “It’s a protest. The government and everyone who had the guts to pass this law need to know that the people will not stand for this. We won’t stand for this. We need to inform the people who have been blinded by this law that omegas, defiled or not, are people and subjecting them to the dangers of these businesses is as barbaric and--”

 

“And then what? After you’ve preached to the people about the obvious wrongness of this all, then what happens? The law isn’t just going to be repealed because you said it should Enjolras.” Grantaire said, unable to control himself.

 

Enjolras looked livid, Grantaire couldn't really blame him. “It’s a protest, Grantaire. Not a call for revolution.”

 

“Really? Cause you have this way of talking that makes everything sound like you are calling for revolution.” Grantaire paused, his eyes glaring daggers into Enjolras’ forehead. “I’ve seen you talk before Enjolras and if you talk like the way you are right now that’s exactly what the people are going to think. What the government is going to think. And what  _ everyone is going to think. _ If you think some people aren’t going to fight back against you just because you have a way with words then you’re more hopeless than I thought. You’re putting yourself and everyone here in danger for no reason at all!”

 

“No reason at all?” Enjolras almost shouted, his voice steadily rising. Grantaire gulped. “What better reason to fight for? Hundreds, no thousands, of omegas are being put in harm’s way-- _ legally.” _

 

“Oh please,” Grantaire bristled. “Like it was any better before it became legal.”

 

“Perhaps not,” Enjolras’ voice shook with fury. A muscle in his neck poked out that should be concerning if not for the rage Enjolras was showing. “But just the fact alone of this act becoming legal is sickening. It gives everyone the idea that omegas aren’t people, shouldn’t even be considered humans at all. Nothing but merchandise. If everyone sees omegas this way, then where has our cause gone? Who will be fighting for them if everyone has turned against them?”

 

Grantaire wanted to scream. Throttle Enjolras and ask him the question searing itself into his mind with every word that left Enjolras’ mouth. He wanted to kick him down despite every thought in his mind telling him not to, that he wasn't allowed to. If anything the voices made him want to do it more.

 

He refrained, breathing heavily in his seat, “This protest is going to be bloody and you know it. You know it,  _ I’m fucking telling you right now without a doubt it will be.  _ If you go through with it you’ll be putting everyone here, everyone at the protest, and yourself in danger for something  _ you can’t change. Not now.  _ It’s too early for that.” Grantaire eyes bore into Enjolras’, like the world will shatter before them if he dares look away. “Please.  _ Please, for fucking once listen to me when I’m talking to you.  _ Listen when I say you’re going to get hurt, that this will accomplish nothing, that--”

 

“Then what do we do, Grantaire?” Enjolras growled, the sound ripping through the tense atmosphere of the Musain making Grantaire almost fall over in his seat. “Sit here and watch it happen, huh? Sit here and drink until it goes away? Is that your great plan?”

 

“ _ Jesus _ , why do I even fucking--” Grantaire was out of his seat now. His legs felt wobbly and his head was lapping from side to side as he tried to focus in on Enjolras’ gaze still centered on him. He was fighting, not only with Enjolras but with himself. Every instinct that told him to look away, to beg for forgiveness, to  _ obey he was fighting.  _ Instead, he hurled all of his frustration into his words, “ _ why the fuck do you even care?” _

 

The musain was silent. Uncharacteristically so. It unsettled Grantaire enough to force him to make two daunting steps towards the exit.

 

“What do you mean?” Enjolras’ voice ripped through the silence. His words were quick and quiet, but no less threatening. 

 

“Oh shut up,” Grantaire growled. His feet kept moving, although he was unsure how far away he was from the door or where he will go afterwards. Hopefully Eponine will follow him out so he won't be locked outside of their apartment in the cold. Right then though, every nerve in him screamed at him to  _ run _ , an instinct he couldn't ignore. Apparently his mouth didn't listen to this instinct and continued to ramble on, “ _ Shut the fuck up, Apollo.  _ You’re not as mighty as you’d like everyone to believe you are. What do you not understand? Why the fuck do you care? This isn’t about you, about any of us, this law has nothing to do with us and won't affect us in the least, yet you would be willing to throw your whole life away to defend it. To fight for it and not even fix it. Just defend it.”

 

“Yes,” Enjolras was quick to answer, his voice full of conviction. “I will.”

 

Grantaire was now only a couple steps away from Enjolras, he realized with a jolt of something that made his shoulders hunch over. He was unable to look his way and decided instead to keep his line of vision on the door. To freedom. Or, at least, what his instincts were telling him is freedom. 

 

Grantaire stifled out a laugh and continued walking, “Well, you do that. Don’t expect me to be there and watch you all get hurt-- _ or worse.  _ I hope you find whatever the fuck you are looking for, Apollo.”

 

And then Grantaire’s entire world altered. Freezed and rearranged before his very eyes so quickly he was almost knocked off his feet. He felt nothing and everything--everything being a sudden hand gripping his forearm. 

 

He was turned around forcibly, the shock of the pull causing him to blink profusely before regaining his line of sight. Enjolras was staring down at him, his eyes wide and blue and not looking at all as tired as Grantaire remembered them being. A layer, thick and obvious, was suddenly glossed over them, but Grantaire couldn't find it in himself to care. He felt like he was flying. Like his body wasn't even there anymore but in a different universe, a different time where everything felt so  _ right.  _ Heat exploded within his chest and ran down his limbs, warming up his chilled fingers and making his cheeks flush. He felt weightless, like the walls, floors, furniture-- _ everything,  _ was  _ gone _ . Grantaire couldn't find it in himself to care, to feel anything except a rare ecstasy that raced through his body like a drug. 

 

Enjolras’ other hand had come up and was now gripping his other arm with just as much strength and anger as the first one. His touch was warm, soothing, and terrifying all in one as his hands raked down Grantaire’s arms, thumbs embedding themselves into the soft material of Grantaire’s shirt, edging it up to reveal his forearms. 

 

Grantaire let out a shaky breath, one loud enough to leave his mouth hanging open and body suddenly feeling like it had been set ablaze. And that was when everything went to hell.

 

Enjolras’ eyes imbed into his in a way that was so familiar and so different from when they fight that it almost knocked the wind out of him. Enjolras’ nose suddenly flared, drawing in all the scents around him and somewhere in the back of Grantaire’s mind he panicked, but the feeling was almost immediately washed away by waves of contentment that seem to arise out of nowhere. 

 

The look that came across Enjolras’ face when he was done scenting him was one that will haunt Grantaire’s dreams forever.  A look of longing, of desperate and irrevocable want that Grantaire had never seen directed at him before. Not by any alpha that had fucked him into submission. And certainly not by Enjolras. The warmth and surprise that rose in his chest was new and fleeting as his eyes froze over Enjolras’ expression. 

 

He didn't get to stare at the look for too long though, because before he knew it the tip of Enjolras’ nose was trailing up the side of his neck and the hands firmly set on his arms tightened. Grantaire’s eyes flutter closed when he found himself tipping his head back, exposing himself completely and fully in a way he had suppressed for years.  _ Submitting.  _ Giving himself up so willingly, so adamantly that Grantaire found it easy to forget who he was the moment he felt a sudden rush of hot breath hit his neck. 

 

_ Enjolras. That's right. Enjolras...Enjolras’ breath… _

 

Grantaire found himself reaching up to grab onto  _ something.  _ Anything to hold him down and remind him that this was real. The closest thing happened to be the front of Enjolras’s shirt and Grantaire wasted no times imbedding his fingers into the thick fabric of his collar, unconsciously tugging him closer until they were practically flushed together from chest to chest. His nose flared despite himself, drawing in Enjolras’s heady alpha and revel in it. He had always known Enjolras’s smell, but never let himself indulge in it. The fear of getting lost in it frightened him too much. But now, he let the overwhelming scent overpower him, the strength and power that wafted off of Enjolras like a natural essence flooded his nose. A part of him wanted to drown in it, to be covered in it from head to toe and finally bask in the safety of an alpha’s scent. 

 

_ He was taken. He was owned. And he was safe. _

 

It wasn’t until Enjolras’ lips found the juncture of his neck, right underneath the side of his chin, that Grantaire found himself completely  _ gone.  _ He might have heard a faint, pleasant rumbling from Enjolras’s lips, vibrating from within his chest creating a sound so  _ Alpha  _ that Grantaire never imagined Enjolras would ever make, not in his wildest dreams. But that was drowned out by the utter contentment swelling inside of him. 

 

_ He was out of this world and unable to think of anything but the need for more. The want for more. The tingles of happiness rumbling under his skin with each delicate touch as Enjolras’ deepened the kiss on his neck, sending flurries of  _ something  _ racing over him.  _

 

_ More. He needed more. Craved it--needed-- _

 

It was only when the tip of Enjolras’ tongue hit Grantaire’s skin, causing a soft, pleading sound to wretch it’s way out of Grantaire that he wasn’t even sure he was capable of making, that Enjolras’ body was all but flung off of him. The force of it caused Grantaire to hastily step back, a wave of regret washing through him at the absence of touch. He felt like crying at the loss of touch, the diminishing of the sudden proximity he had been granted clawing at his insides--tearing him open from within with this sudden, wretched loneliness--

 

He forced his eyes open when his back hit the sturdiness of the bar and the sound of a growl was being ripped through the Musain causing his already sensitive nerves to go on edge. A growl of anger coming from Enjolras. From being ripped away. Grantaire’s mind spun.

 

The only thing he saw was Eponine, her fist connecting with the side of Enjolras’ face before she was pulled back by Combeferre. Bahorel, if Grantaire’s vision wasn’t fucking with him, was suddenly rushing past him only to place two firm hands on Enjolras’ chest, forcing him back and up against a nearby wall. Enjolras thrashed, teeth bared in aggression. Courfeyrac was trailing not far behind Bahorel and quickly helped him hold Enjolras down when his eyes started to bleed into a dark Crimson. Bahorel had to growl, his eyes flashing in response, just to keep Enjolras against the wall. 

 

Enjolras’ eyes were wide, like he’d just run a mile, and the gloss was slowly beginning to disappear along with the red. His mouth was open in shock, and he didn't seem to be fighting Bahorel nor Courefeyrac any longer, just staring at the ground in silent horror as if collecting himself the way Grantaire found himself doing. Eponine was still thrashing in Combeferre’s arms, her words finally making sense to Grantaire’s ears, “ _ \--fucking bastard, I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking tear you apart you fucking monster. Who the fuck do you think you are you animal! I’ll chop off your dick and make sure you never feel anything ever again--do you fucking hear me? How dare you--how dare you do that--” _

 

A hand was suddenly on Grantaire’s shoulder and he almost caught himself cringing away at the contact.  _ The wrong touch _ , his mind unhelpfully supplied. He whipped his head around only to see Joly standing next to him. His face uncharacteristically twisted in worry. Behind him, Grantaire could see Jehan sitting in the back with his hand over his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Guilt spread through Grantaire's chest like a hot searing wind. 

 

“R?” Joly’s voice was quiet, but Grantaire could hear him despite the commotion going on around him. “Are you okay--”

 

“I have to go.” He was quick to push past Joly, and unsurprisingly Musichetta and Bossuet standing close behind him, and make his way towards the Musain doors. No one tried to stop him.

 

As soon as the cold air whipped against Grantaire’s heated skin he felt in control. Almost. A lingering sense of shock still stuck to him like a bad cold, but despite this he became adamant on shuffling down the nearly vacant streets to the nearest bar. He shoved his hands into his coat, thankful that he hadn’t taken it off during the meeting, and continued his way down the street.

 

_ Don’t think. Drink. Don’t think. Drink. _

 

Those were the only thoughts he allowed to run through his mind as he disappeared into the a familiar pub just on the outskirts of town.

  
  


~~~

 

Grantaire was shaking. His whole body was covered in goosebumps yet he had never felt more heated-- like he was on the very edge of a fever. He could feel his skin growing clammy with sweat the longer he shiverd into Eponine and Combeferre’s couch. That didn't necessarily stop him from reaching for another thick blanket and carelessly throwing it over himself, adamant on making himself disappear.

 

_ Disappear. He had to disappear. _

 

The thought of losing Eponine, losing Combeferre, his way of life, the acquaintances he had made at various jobs, his friends--the Les Amis--was almost enough to make tears Grantaire had been forcing back since stomping away from the Musain dare to spill. Of course, this would all be easier to cope with if only he was drunk, if only Eponine wasn’t there to stop him before he was able to order a single drink from the pub he had found and instead drag his ass home.

 

He didn’t know how she found him, but Eponine had always been able to read Grantaire better than anywhere else. He shouldn’t be surprised by it now...but could she have seen this coming? Probably not, considering it had been hours since the incident and Grantaire still couldn't even believe it happened.

 

When Eponine told him to spill everything out on the table and tell him what the fuck happened back there Grantaire saw no reason to hold back the truth. The truth being he had  _ no. Fucking. Clue.  _

 

All he could remember was Enjolras grabbing his arm and then  _ nothing. Or, more accurately, he felt everything. Every little touch, every breathe, every sound--whether it came from Enjolras or himself didn’t matter. His world became ignited, sparked like a lighter being lit for the first time. He had felt enraptured by an force still unknown even to himself, everything suddenly being increased to the highest level in ways Grantaire didn’t know was possible.  _

 

_ He felt ablaze. Like everything that made him an omega was pulled out of him and he didn't mind at all.  _

 

_ Set ablaze by just Enjolras’ hands--his lips-- _

 

Enjolras. Enjolras had touched him. With his lips. His hands.  _ His fucking tongue. _

 

_ Why had he-- _

 

An involuntary shiver ran down Grantaire’s back at the memory and he clamped his mouth shut before telling Eponine anything past  _ he felt nothing and everything.  _ Eponine gave him a questioning look, but decided to drop it in the end after feeling Grantaire’s forehead and realizing he was burning up.

 

“Eat this.”

 

Grantaire poked his head out from underneath the covers only to stare up at Eponine who was strangely enough holding a plate to him with a piece of chocolate cake drizzled with nuts and caramel syrup. Perhaps he was still hallucinating, Eponine was nice when the time needed it,  _ but this was too much to be real.  _ The smell was intoxicating though and even though Grantaire felt like he was the last person in the world to deserve he took it nevertheless.

 

As soon as he sat up and took the first bite Eponine was plopping down next to him, a piece of cheesecake with strawberries toppings on a plate of her own. It was almost comforting because of how familiar it all felt with just the two of them sitting on the couch eating food that would make them sick later. It eased the hole of panic that seemed to have opened in Grantaire’s chest and made it almost disappear.

 

_ Disappear. _

 

Grantaire gulped, his gaze sticking to the piece of cake lying before him, “What now?”

 

Eponine was silent. The only sound that came from her was the loud chomps she took every time she took a bite. Eventually though, once her cake was almost gone, she spoke softly, “Combeferre said he would fix it before I left to find you. I don’t believe him...I want to but....I don’t know R. I don’t know.  _ I’m sorry. _ ”

 

Grantaire gulped. He knew he was fucked if Eponine was sorry.

 

“They're gonna know about me now.” Of course they were. No beta, no matter how intoxicating their scent, could send an alpha off like that. It was their biology’s at work, and no shampoo or suppressants was going to change the way that Grantaire had just revealed what he truly was in the most demonstrative way. Submitting. That’s all it took to be an omega? Right?? He swallowed. “They’re gonna know that I lied. That I--”

 

Grantaire cut himself off before he could doom himself anymore. He hated the absence of Eponine’s usually confident voice as she just sat there and silently ate. It made him sick and he had barely even made a dent in his cake.

 

~~~

 

Grantaire didn’t move from his spot on the couch for three days. His head hurt too much. Every limb felt sore from even the littlest of movements. Every breath was agonizing and felt hollow and weak, like it could be his last if he wasn’t careful. Grantaire almost welcomed the pain with open arm. Pain deterred his mind from wandering to things he didn’t want to think about. To things he wanted to forget. To what the future held for him from here on out.

 

Pain stopped him from thinking about the Les Amis, his job he was missing, the unfinished season of Gray’s anatomy still lying on the foot of Eponine and Combeferre’s bed, and  _ Enjolras.  _

 

Enjolras haunted Grantaire’s dreams like nothing before, plaguing him night after night with his touch. Grantaire almost felt like he deserved it at that point. He wasn’t an idiot, and neither was Enjolras. Grantaire knew the moment he saw Enjolras that he was attractive, denying the attraction he felt for him would be like denying Grantaire’s undying love for Eponine’s horrible cooking (it’s the thought that counts), but what would be even more foolish would be denying his  _ current feelings. _

 

The shift of just being attracted to Enjolras’ beauty to actually feeling attached to the hopeless leader was a rocky one, but one Grantaire was all too aware of. He no longer came to the meetings to practice standing up to alphas, he was proud to say he was past that phase in his life, and he certainly didn’t go there just do adore Enjolras’ features week after week. He came because Enjolras enraptured him, stole his breath away whenever he spoke, left him feeling full when he should’ve felt empty from a long day’s work. 

 

Grantaire was falling for him. Plain and simple as that. Actually, he probably already hit rock bottom months ago. But that didn’t mean the thought terrified him any less.

 

Now though, Enjolras was more prominent in Grantaire’s mind than he had ever thought possible and it was driving him  _ mad.  _

 

After the three days of sickness though, Eponine had insisted on dragging him to the doctor,  _ Eponine did,  _ which concerned Grantaire far more than his current condition did. But for once, Combeferre was the one to turn her down.

 

“They wouldn’t be able to do anything for him,” He said simply, his pitying gaze meeting Grantaire for only a moment before shifting back towards Eponine who didn’t look the least bit convinced. His shoulders were slumped and thick bags hung under his eyes indicating he was getting about as much sleep as Grantaire felt like he was getting. Guilt swelled up in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach at the thought.

 

“He’s getting worse, Ferre. He barely gets up, barely eats, and--”

 

“Ep,” Combeferre’s voice sounded like it was struggling to stay steady, “he has been suppressing every instinct, everything that comes naturally to him, for a little over two years. Monthly suppressants or not, that took its toll on his body. Finally letting himself go, even if only for a few moments, only to draw himself back again is causing his body to have...withdrawal systems, is the only way I can really explain it. Joly would be able to tell you more but...I warned you about this when you first brought the idea to my attention. This was bound to happen eventually. _ ” _

 

Eponine’s shoulder drew in on herself, her entire posture changing to become tense, “And he was willing to fight through it. He’s only been off the suppressants for a month or so. Mont hasn’t-- _ hell Combeferre, he was doing fine until the monster--that fucking animal--” _

 

“What happened at the Musain was not Enjolras’ fault, Eponine.”

 

Eponine laughed, brittle and choked. Grantaire could feel his eyes slipping shut, nostalgia rushing over him in thick waves as he struggled to pay attention to their conversation. He felt like a sleeping child staying up late only to hear their parent’s fight.  _ “Not his fault?  _ How can you say that, Ferre? He jumped him--he--he--”

 

“Was horrified by his actions. You know how long I had to talk to him to convince him not to come here? He’s furious, not only with me for keeping this from him, but with himself.” Combeferre said, his voice firm. “He was acting on instinct as much as Grantaire was, Eponine. No harm was done, I mean of course Grantaire is in pain now, but it’ll pass in time once he gets back on suppressants. No one was at the Musain that night to witness what happened besides the Les Amis, thank God, and no one is going to say anything about what they saw.  _ You must know that no one would go against R like th--” _

 

“Was he now? Horrified, I mean?  _ Furious? Was he really? _ ” Eponine sounded livid, completely disregarding almost half of what Combeferre was trying to say with ease. She sounded like any moment she was about to rampage through the door and take Enjolras’ head herself. “You know, something about alphas having this ‘wicked self control’ in the most crucial of times tells me that he knew  _ exactly what he was doing. The pig.  _ R is off suppressants for one month and he thinks he can just waltz in and--”

 

“You don’t believe that.” Combeferre said, following several moments of silence. Eponine didn’t correct him. “You’ve known Enjolras longer than I have and you know he would never do it by choice. It would go against everything he stands for.”

 

“I don’t give a damn, Ferre! How can you be defending him when Grantaire is--is--” Eponine suddenly stomped her foot causing the glasses in the sink to shake beside her. Combeferre’s jaw became tense as he watched from the sidelines. “R got hurt--is hurting--and there is nothing we can, I can, do about it besides watch him get worse and...and I don’t know how to...he’s just--I can’t do anything to…”

 

All the vigor was out of Eponine’s voice by the time she trailed off and Combeferre was quick to wrap his arms around her, dragging her into a soothing hug that she fell into immediately. Grantaire’s mind slipped into a trance and he found himself once again lost in the darkness of his deepest dreams.

 

~~~

 

It took Grantaire another week before he was able to hold down any solid food without hacking it up minutes later. He was more alert now and able to keep himself standing steady on his own without Eponine by his side. He still felt like he had been strung through the ringer, like a part of him was released and was now slowly and painfully being closed back up, but he suffers through it the best he can. The fevers have died down, if only a little. He still found himself waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, but Eponine was always there next to him before panic can set in from whatever his mind was conjuring up at night. 

 

He had missed a meeting and will probably miss the one happening that night, but neither Combeferre nor Eponine said anything about it to him or show him any grief on the subject. A few people had stopped by to visit, Grantaire could only guess who it might be, to ask about his condition but Eponine didn't dare let anyone inside and kept the description of his health short, sweet, and to the point before ushering them away. Grantaire appreciated it more than words could describe.

 

“What are they saying?” Grantaire asked, his voice hoarse and rough from hours of sleep. He was starting to smell, not only because of the lack of showers he had been taking, but also because his suppressants were wearing off quickly. He could see it in Eponine’s eyes whenever she was close enough to him, the way her nose crinkled up as if she was smelling him for the first time. It was not in disgust like Grantaire would’ve imagined the appropriate response to smelling a defiled omega would be, but just of unfamiliarity. He had masked his scent for so long even he didn't remember how he once smelt, he didn’t expect Eponine to either. Didn’t think either of them would ever have to again.

 

Eponine’s lips went thin. She was perched up on a chair next to the couch Grantaire was still leaning back into. This couch had always been his bed, but never before can he remember ever laying on it for so long. As soon as Eponine finally allowed him to get out of the house after being on suppressants all those years ago the last thing Grantaire wanted was to stay cooped up on a couch. He wanted to see the world in a different way, not the way omega’s are forced to see it.

 

She gave a him a simple shrug, drawing her feet up to her chest, “They are worried about you. Joly had literally offered me money to come in and inspect you claiming that he can’t sleep at night until he knows you’re okay. Jehan tried to leave you food and flowers and shit but I always tell him and Courfeyrac to go fuck off. I know you don’t want their pity.”

 

“They know...don’t they?  _ Fuck, how could they not?”  _ Grantaire asked, his voice cracking. He had lied to them, plain and simple. Everything he said,  _ every time he spoke for omegas-- _ they all knew the truth now. The horrible, painful truth and nothing would ever be the same. Grantaire shook his head, “They must...damn, they must fucking hate me. Or are going to when they realize what an asshole I’ve been by hiding this from them for so long.”

 

Eponine snorted at that, “Hate you? R, you’re their friend. Honestly, and this is completely according to what Combeferre told me, everyone has come to terms with you being an omega. They don’t care, R, they just want to know you’re safe.”

 

Grantaire gave her a look that told Eponine he didn't believe a word she was saying, and Eponine just scoffs, “Okay.  _ Okay,  _ so the grand leader in red might be blowing his top off about this, but that is only because he was left out of the loop about something for so long. You know how he gets. He has to know everything and be on top of everything before there is even something to get on top of. He’ll get over it.”

 

_ Sure, Enjolras will get over it...the question of whether Grantaire will or not is debateable... _

 

“He’s gonna kill me next time he sees me...isn’t he?” Grantaire asked.

 

Eponine winced, “Perhaps. But not in the way you’re thinking.”

 

Grantaire stared, “ _ What?” _

 

Eponine bristled, “You didn’t tell him something that could possibly pose a threat to you. Suppressants aren’t the most safe things to use, but they get the job done. He’s not gonna kill you because the sexual tension between you two burst open in front of everyone. Enjolras is good at a lot of things, but subtlety isn’t one of them. He doesn't give a shit about what happened, just how it affected you.  _ Consent wise  _ and all the shit.”

 

“He would.” Grantaire said, feeling a little exasperated. 

 

“R...seriously, you don’t have to worry so much about this. You’ve never had a problem standing up to Enjolras before. Sure, he’s gonna be all over you the next time you two meet because he’s Enjolras and that is just the way his stupid brain functions, but that doesn't mean you have to take it. Tell him to back off and forget about it...if that’s how you want it to be.”

 

When Grantaire remained silent, Eponine continued with a softer tone, “Nothing has changed and you are still you.They know that. Enjolras knows that. They accept you just the way you are and you should too. Now come on, stop moping around and eat your dinner. I made it special.”

 

Grantaire cracked a smile at that, “Mac and cheese? I can tell you spent all night on it.”

 

“Damn right,” Eponine smiled, only a little forced. “We'll figure it out, R. I’ve been with you since the beginning and don’t think this little bump in the road is going to stop me, okay? No, better yet, don’t let it stop you.”

 

Grantaire grinned at her, “Alright Miss Thenardier, the great inspirational speaker, I’ll try my best.”

 

Eponine rolled her eyes at that, “You’ll fucking succeed, idiot. None of this ‘try my best shit’--that’s not good enough. I’ll call Mont tomorrow and track him down myself if I have to. The Les Amis know, but they’ll keep it a secret--Ferre’s talked to me about it after the last meeting.  _ And yes,  _ even Enjolras isn’t arguing with that. You’ll be back on suppressants and kicking it before you know it.”

 

Grantaire let out a sigh of relief, a long sigh that felt like it had been stuck in the back of his throat all week, “You’re the best.”

 

Eponine threw him a devious grin, “Aren’t I?”

 

“I’m not going back to those meetings though.” Grantaire was quick to point out. “I mean--they’re all my friends, but there’s no way I can go back. At least...not for a while.”

 

Eponine was still smiling at him though, “Sure. See how long you can stay away, R.”

 

~~~

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Grantaire had barely sat down and Enjolras was already next to him, his eyes as fierce and wide as saucers. It took everything within Grantaire not to be affected by it, not to think too much about...yeah, that. Enjolras was like a completely different entity. He always stood out in a crowd, but now Grantaire was too aware of Enjolras being there than he would’ve ever liked. He needed to focus, pull everything within him into gear so he didn’t slip up--not even once. He owed it to Eponine, to Combeferre, and to everyone here to prove he was still himself and that one little slip up wasn’t going to define him.

 

Montparnasse had  _ finally  _ gotten in touch with Eponine and even offered to give her an extra shipment without pay for their troubles.  _ How generous of him.  _ Once the suppressants were once again in Grantaire’s system and ultimately making all of his weird fevers and other symptoms disappear, there was little Grantaire could argue about in order to get out of going to the Musain that next week. He had missed two meetings already and the knocks on Eponine and Combeferre’s door from his friends were getting more constant and more worrisome. So, as much as Grantaire dreaded it, Eponine did have a point-- _ he wasn’t about to let one little slip up ruin his entire life. A life he had been building for himself for the past two years just because he didn’t have enough drugs pumping through his system. _

 

He was the same Grantaire as he ever was. Cynical and sarcastic. And even if the moment he took a step into the Musain that night and allowed a wave of regret to pool over him he still had to be strong and fight through it till the end. He hadn’t expected everything to go back to normal,  _ hell nothing was going to be normal now,  _ but he had to at least try. He came in expecting the worst--the worst being Enjolras trying to talk to him and that didn’t take too long to happen.

 

“Not now.” Grantaire said simply, sliding into his usual seat with ease. “You have a meeting to run and I have a headache that can only be soothed by drinking myself into nothingness. So, if you’ll excuse me…”

 

“ _ Grantaire,”  _ Enjolras’ voice was hard, serious, everything that made Grantaire pay attention to him meeting after meeting. The fierceness that radiated off of him like a burning entity in this dark, clouded world. 

 

Enjolras will be the end of Grantaire--he knew that for sure now.

 

“Look,” Grantaire bit out, turning Enjolras’ way for the first time and was adamant on matching his fearsome scowl. Grantaire wasn’t a stranger to facing off with Enjolras, perhaps not this close in proximity, but the fact alone still stood. “I promised Eponine I would come back here, alright? The last thing I wanna do is make a big fucking deal about this. It happened, everyone knows, I’ll possibly be disappearing in the next couple of weeks-- _ who knows?” _

 

“You can’t be serious,” Enjolras snapped causing a surprised laugh to slip past Grantaire’s lips.

 

“Are you feeling alright, Apollo? You’re starting to sound like me.”

 

Grantaire attempt at reaching some point of peace, of familiarity, was ruined when Enjolras plopped down in the chair next to him. His hands are clenched into fists on the table as he spoke, “You can’t just run away from this, Grantaire. You--”

 

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” Grantaire snapped. Oh how he wanted to punch Enjolras square in the face. He should. Eponine certainly wouldn’t blame him. “You have no say in what I do or where I go, you hear me? Nothing changes. Nothing at all. I’m still me, and you’re still all idealistic and naive. You have  _ no say in what I do. Ever.  _ Stop trying to twist this into some big fucking thing because  _ it’s not _ . I’ve lived this way longer than I’ve known you and I don’t plan to stop any time soon.”

 

The table jolted from the force of Enjolras suddenly standing up, his tall frame snapping up abruptly as he stomped away from the table. Grantaire let out a breathe of shameless relief at his absence. Enjolras looked back over his shoulder, “We’re talking about this. It isn’t over.”

 

Grantaire tipped backward, his back hitting the frame behind him, “Kind of hard to end something that hasn’t even begun, Apollo. But go ahead, try it.”

  
  
  


The meeting never took off. Instead, Grantaire watched, with much annoyance, as Enjolras dragged Courfeyrac and Combeferre off to the side to have some sort of super-secret, super-serious, ‘pep’ talk with them. It didn't take Grantaire long to get through his first beer.

 

“So,” Feuilly mused next to him, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop. His face was flushed from the cold weather outside, highlighting the freckles scattered around his face perfectly. His lips were pursed and his eyes didn't quite meet Grantaire’s. Grantaire didn't blame him. Feuilly and Jehan should be mad at him more than anyone else here--especially more mad than Enjolras seemed to be.

 

“You’re an omega.”

 

Grantaire sighed. No one had said it to him so straight forward like this, mostly because they didn't need to. Grantaire could only have nightmares about what the Les Amis have been talking about the last two weeks, but he was almost positive that everyone knew without a doubt about his true identity. He made it pretty clear enough with Enjolras…. _ then _ . The sidelong glances and forced sense of  _ nonchalance  _ in the group was proof enough that everyone had been ordered to tiptoe around Grantaire like some lost puppy.  _ How Grantaire wonders who could’ve thought that was a good idea…. _

 

Feuilly though seemed to have disregarded this unspoken rule easily enough and waited for Grantaire’s answer patiently. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta had left them alone at the table in the back long ago after a few games of cards to go tease Marius about a lunch meeting he apparently had with Cosette and her father. Grantaire didn’t have the energy to join them and suddenly wished he had forced himself to go tease the idiot instead of facing Feuilly’s wrath.

 

Avoiding the question wouldn't make it any easier though, just draw out the inevitable. “Yeah.”

 

Feuilly nodded, “I don’t blame you, ya know. Neither does Jehan if that makes you feel any better.”

 

“Thanks.” Grantaire managed. He would never say it,  _ but it really fucking did. _ “I--”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s none of my business, just thought I’d offer myself up in case you wanted to talk about it. Everyone’s been able to cope with the, you know,  _ change  _ as the weeks have gone by. Not that anyone resented you for being an omega--just no one could believe it.”

 

Grantaire squinted at that, “Really? Well, I guess that was kind of the point. The smell and all being masked over and suppressants--”

 

“Not even that.” Feuilly chimed in. “Just...the way you act. I mean, you know me and Jehan and we are far from delicate fucking flowers, but none of us could even come close to acting the way you do whenever you square off with Enjolras. It’s like--mind-blowing is all. You have more guts than Bahorel or Combeferre when it comes to fighting the grand leader. And not just Enjolras but… you pulled off being a beta quite well. No one would've suspected if-- _ God,  _ sorry I'm probably being a dick…”

 

“No. No just, well, none of it matters now. Enjolras is pissed at me for no good reason, probably some crap about me hiding who I truly am and how that’s the coward’s way of doing it, or some heroic bullshit that he’ll try and understand and sympathize with.” Grantaire couldn't keep the venom out of his voice as he spoke.

 

Feuilly, to Grantaire’s relief, smiled at him, “I’m glad you’re back, R--we all are.”

 

“Speaking of everyone,” Grantaire eyes scanned the room, picking out people of the Les Amis easily enough, but the Musain seemed quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet for a friday evening. “ _ Where is everyone?” _

 

Feuilly shrugged, “Enjolras made everyone who isn't with the Amis get out. Well, I mean, he asked nicely first and then--”

 

_ “Jesus, he’s a fucking idiot."  _ Grantaire groaned.

 

Feuilly winced a little, but was still smiling, “Maybe so. But he just didn’t want to risk you feeling uncomfortable or worried that people were going to find out. He is trying you know. Just--he’s a bit shaken.”

 

“How? Because I’m an omega is he never gonna square off with me again, is that it? Is he gonna tip toe around me like I’m gonna break any moment you take a step too close?”

 

“That’s not what I said,” Feuilly cut him off quickly. “There is only one thing Enjolras loves more than freedom and justice--and that’s consent. If he feels like he is ever taking that away from you--he’s gonna panic and do something stupid  _ because he is Enjolras.  _ Happens to me and Jehan all the time. He can’t help it. Actually, now that I think about it, with all that super alpha hearing shit, he can probably hear us right now…”

 

“Let him. He needs to know he's being idiotic. Even more so than usual.”

 

Grantaire didn't have to look Enjolras's way to know that there was a ninety percent chance Enjolras flinched in anger at the comment.

 

Grantaire, on the other hand, couldn't help but sulk.  _ This  _ was exactly what he didn’t want people finding out about him. Why he never told any of them in the first place. Omegas are treated differently, doesn't matter if you’re the leader of an ‘equality for fucking everyone’ group or not. It’s a fact of life that Grantaire had doubts that even Apollo himself could change.

 

_ After all, it’s hard to change something you live by yourself. _

 

~~~

 

Grantaire left early from the ‘meeting’. Mostly because the meeting wasn’t a fucking meeting at all. It was a low key ‘Yo, make Grantaire feel comfortable and welcome and  _ accepted’  _ party that obviously caused the opposite results. Grantaire wasn’t a dick, most of the times, he understood what they were trying to do but in the end it had only made him feel more out of place then he had ever felt at the Musain. He loved it the way it was whether it be joking around and daring Bossuet to do things that’ll probably end in disaster or be in an internal battle with himself on whether he wanted to make out with their leader or hit him twenty seven times in the face.

 

Eponine, thank God, didn’t make a fuss about him leaving. Out of everyone there she probably understood Grantaire the best and knew he was probably uncomfortable. He had managed to slip out surprisingly easy, only saying a few goodbyes over his shoulder before ducking out into the cold night.

 

He was only two blocks away from the Musain when he felt it. The familiar feeling of being followed. And sure, yes, not one of the most common things people tend to want to be familiar with. Or probably want to be familiar with. But for Grantaire it was once a way of living, of surviving. Grantaire had shed many habits from his past--the habit of always being super aware of his surroundings had yet to leave him. 

 

He knew it was different though when he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the barren street. The feeling, while familiar, wasn’t the same. He felt no danger. No urge to run, duck, or beg for mercy. Only--strangely enough--annoyance. Like he already knew who the fuck would follow him home when he was already feeling like shit.

 

Grantaire wasn’t even surprised when he whirled around to see Enjolras standing a good ten, fifteen paces behind him. Perhaps he was a little winded, but he could easily blame that on the cold weather outside. 

 

He scowled when Enjolras came to a stop as well, “What are you doing?”

 

The least Enjolras could do was look like a deer in the headlights.  _ The least.  _ But no, the Amis’ great and courageous leader looked as stoic and handsome as ever. His face contorted into a frown, not surprising or new, like he was already judging Grantaire for whatever he fucked up this time “Grantaire, what are  _ you doing?” _

 

The flare of annoyance in Grantaire immediately grew into a burning flame, “Walking home. Do you have a problem with that?”

 

“Yes,” And Grantaire really could punch him.  _ He really fucking could.  _ “Yes I have a fucking problem with you walking alone and unprotected to your home this late at night.  _ Dammit Grantaire,  _ what are you thinking?”

 

Oh, he was thinking a lot of things. A lot of things that involved Enjolras and a hacksaw. Grantaire almost growled, “What am  _ I thinking?  _ I’m thinking that this meeting is bullshit and I just wanna go home. Nothing changed, Apollo. How can I get that through your thick, hopeless mind? You don’t have to walk a  _ poor, defenseless omega like me  _ home at night just because of society’s standards of what alphas should do when--”

 

“That isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a damn about society standards; I care about you getting home safe. Is that so hard to believe?” Enjolras insisted. His voice hardened the way it did when he was past the point of negotiations. His red pea coat stood out like a beacon of light in the middle of the night. Even when being the most annoying prick Grantaire could think of, Enjolras was still the light in his world. Fuck.

 

“Yes. Yes it fucking is. You’ve never walked me home before, Enjolras,  _ never.  _ Don’t th--”

 

“I didn’t know then. About…” Enjolras said quietly, his voice just as firm as before. He was still paces away from Grantaire, but suddenly Grantaire felt invaded. Like Enjolras’ presence was going to swallow him whole any second. “You didn’t tell me.”

 

“Of course I fucking didn’t!” Grantaire protested, throwing his arms out to the side to show his frustration. “Why the fuck would I? It’s my business. My choice to cover it up and start new. You had no right to know.”

 

“You endangered yourself by keeping me in the dark. And what the fuck do you mean I have no right to know when--” Enjolras growled, cutting himself off. His voice holds of hint of something that Grantaire could’ve sworn was concern. Weird. Fucking weird. “Which--I guess I...I never got to formally apologize for, um, a couple weeks ago….”

 

Grantaire ran a shaky, frozen hand down his face because-- _ yes, they actually are having this conversation.  _ He let out a long breath, unable to meet Enjolras’ gaze, “Forget it. Don’t--it’s cool, okay? It wasn’t your fault. My suppressants were late. I fucked up. I mean, if anyone should be apologizing--”

 

“Don’t apologize.” Enjolras said. “It was my careless actions that led to you responding the way you did.”

 

“You weren’t in control of your actions either, dipshit. I know how much you love giving your heroic speeches but don’t shoulder all the blame for that. It was nothing. An accident.” Grantaire said. 

 

“An accident.  _ An accident? _ ” Enjolras repeated, his voice sounding strangely unsure. Like he didn't believe Grantaire at all. Enjolras seemed to shake the look away, composing himself, "An accident that could happen again, and not just me Grantaire, but out here-- _ out in the fucking middle of the night.  _ You need someone with you, at least Eponine. _ ” _

 

_ “Jesus,”  _ Grantaire drawled, shaking his head. “I know how to fucking take care of myself, Enjolras. I don’t need any of your help.” And, as much as Grantaire loved turning down Enjolras’ great ideas, this one was actually justified. As soon as he had gotten used to his suppressants and was able to ‘rejoin’ the new world, Combeferre had insisted on him taking a self defense class. Grantaire protested at first, but realized how beneficial it truly was (and how many horrid situations he could’ve gotten out of in the past) to know how to protect yourself. Grantaire considered stalking away, but a part of him already knew Enjolras, being Enjolras, would follow him. Instead he let out a shaky breath, “I’m fine on my own. Plus, you might know what I really am, but to everyone else I’m just a beta getting home after--”

 

Enjolras cut him off, his nose crinkling in confusion, “What are you talking about? You--” Enjolras drew back, his shoulders going taunt and his whole posture suddenly seemed off. Very  _ un-Enjolras-y _ . “Grantaire, I can smell you…”

 

“Uh-huh. Good for you. Wanna rub it in my face how much better--how much more control you have over your senses being  _ superior and all _ . Look, I might not be able to smell that well, but Eponine is an actual beta and she--”

 

“No,” Enjolras continued, eyes meeting his. Grantaire gulped. “I mean--I  _ smell  _ you.  _ Real you.” _

 

It was only then that the puzzle pieces slowly begin to fit together in Grantaire’s mind and he took a shuddering step backwards, away from Enjolras, “You can’t. I-I covered that up. I,” his voice must sound wrecked right then, but he kept pushing on. His head shaking back and forth vigorously as fear quenched up in his stomach, “ _ I-I fucking asked Bahorel tonight to... _ he said I was fine. Like, he couldn’t even tell what I really was….”

 

It was a moment of weakness, but Grantaire had to know. Eponine and Combeferre, while having a way better sense of smell than Grantaire ever would, weren’t alphas. If anyone was going to figure Grantaire out it would be an alpha. Bahorel, bless his heart, didn’t shutter away when Grantaire asked him about how he smelled. Just let his nostrils flare unashamedly and shrugged saying, ‘You smell the same to me, man. I wouldn’t look your way twice.’

 

Enjolras looked confused now, his nostrils flaring every once in awhile but not in the obvious way Grantaire would expect from him. “You asked Bahorel…” Enjolras said slowly.

 

“Yes,” Grantaire insisted. “I’m good. I’m--I’m back to normal.”

 

Enjolras didn't look convinced, his nose still twitching, but he moved on, “Just…. _ please,”  _ The sudden shift in Enjolras’ voice nearly caused  him to slip on nothing but his own shock and face plant into the cement below. He kept on his own two feet by sheer force of will, “ _ let me walk you home.  _ I can’t just leave you, I can’t--. You--You don’t have to acknowledge me or--”

 

“That’s not the fucking problem, Enjolras.” Grantaire said, tugging at his hair. “I swear you’re so fucking clueless sometimes it hurts. I don’t need a fucking escort to hold my hand in the moonlight. I might be an omega, but nothing has changed since two weeks ago.”

 

Enjolras was looking like him like he had grown another head. " _ Nothing's changed... _ Grantaire, can you not--"

 

Suddenly Enjolras cut off, his eyes wide and furious and his fists balled up at his sides. He looked like he wanted to come over and shake Grantaire, knock some sense into him, throw a punch at him maybe? Honestly at that point Grantaire wouldn’t be surprised if he did all three. “There’s no--you couldn’t have possibly already forgotten.”

 

Enjolras sounded like he was moving on. Like he was trying to change a subject he didn't even bring up in the first place. Grantaire squared his shoulders, taking in a shuddering breath, “Try me.”

 

Enjolras sighed, annoyance coming off of him in waves Grantaire could almost feel. Enjolras looked him dead in the eye, his feet unconsciously coming a few steps closer for emphasis. Grantaire couldn’t decide whether he welcomed the steps closer or wanted to set them on fire when Enjolras said, “The law, Grantaire. The law that was passed literally  _ days _ before we found out that you’re an omega.  _ Days.  _ How can you not be concerned for your safety? This law now affects you Grantaire, suppressants or not, and if you aren’t careful--”

 

“I’m fine, Enjolras. Jesus, I know we make dad and mom jokes about you and Combeferre all the time, but  _ christ  _ just--”

 

It’s only then that Grantaire realized. He fit the final piece of the puzzle and was stunned to see what was lying before him. His gaze on Enjolras, who was now staring at him with wide eyes, was like looking at the sun. Almost reflexively, Grantaire wanted to look away, but forced his eyes to stay as best as he could.

 

“You,” Grantaire voice came out weaker than he expected. Much weaker. So weak that Enjolras was suddenly looking at him like a lost puppy.  _ Fuck.  _ He swallowed through the lump in his throat, “ _ You know.” _

 

Enjolras blinked at him, confused. “What are you ta--”

 

_ “ _ You know I’m ruined.”

 

_ A defiled omega. A useless omega. Why else would an omega hide? _

 

Grantaire wasn’t sure how Enjolras would respond. He knew it wouldn’t be pretty or something he would enjoy listening to. But the silence that accompanied it was like squirting lemon juice on an open wound. The final touch to make Grantaire’s shoulders hunch over himself, turn around, and continue his way home. Each step a whole new agony that Grantaire found hard to cope with already.

 

_ Enjolras took one whiff of him two weeks ago and knew instantly. Grantaire had one moment of weakness and in those measly seconds Enjolras had figured it out, read him like an open book, uncovering all of his deepest secrets that he had yet to even tell Eponine. He knew--and Grantaire could never, ever look at him again. _

 

_ And now he was quiet. Enjolras, the man ready to change the world with his voice, was brought to utter silence at the mention of Grantaire’s ruin. _

 

_ Why was Grantaire even surprised by this? Is the amount of disgust that alphas had for defiled omegas still shocking to him or did he just forget about it while off playing beta? _

  
Enjolras followed Grantaire home and Grantaire let him. His head too heavy to protest Enjolras. Enjolras never said one word the whole walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire and Enjolas both get very intimate due to their natural instincts taking over. Neither one forces the other to do anything, but afterwards there is some guilt on what happened between both of them.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire goes out clubbing with the rest of the amis to relieve the tension of the last couple of weeks. It sounds like a great idea... until it's really, really not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badly edited sorry guys! I wrote this so long ago and yeah... i just really wanted to post tonight. Hope it is bearable enough to read.

As soon as Courfeyrac saw him he was bounding over, bright pinks pants practically shining in the dimly lit room, and was pressing a warm, sloppy kiss onto Grantaire’s cheek. Grantaire recoiled, but was still smiling when Courfeyrac untangled his arms from around his neck. He was bouncing up and down on his heels, his eyes wide and excited as he looked down at Grantaire, “Sorry R, couldn’t help myself. I’m pretty sure I’ve warned you about showing up to my house looking as hot as you do right now before, right?”

 

“You flatter me.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes and looking past Courfeyrac’s shoulders. Everyone was mostly huddled up in the cramped living room. 

 

Jehan, who was wearing a floral print shirt that went together perfectly with Courfeyrac’s hot pink pants, was currently challenging Bahorel to arm wrestle while Musichetta is making quick work of removing any books or coasters from the small coffee table. Bossuet was quick to help her, but Joly hangs back, obviously concerned about Bahorel getting too excited and snapping Jehan’s arm. Bahorel just grins, untangling his arm from around Feuilly’s waist and crouching down to meet Jehan’s daring gaze. Cosette was the first one to start cheering in the background while Marius just huddled close to her, looking only slightly uncomfortable considering Marius lives in the realm of uncomfortability. Eponine, unsurprisingly, was the first one to bet that Jehan will be the winner and Bossuet is quick to bet in the opposite direction. Combeferre, who was resting in the arm chair, had a fond smile on his face as he watches the whole fiasco go down.

 

“Hey R,” Courfeyrac said, leading Grantaire over towards the living room. “can I ask you a personal question?”

 

Grantaire could vaguely hear the sounds cheering in the background when he said, “Shoot.”

 

“Are these pants to gay? Like--even for me?” Courfeyrac asked, the quirk of his lips making Grantaire snort. 

 

“Considering you are  _ literally fucking Jehan,  _ I would say you’re good.” Grantaire answered, just in time to see Feuilly, right in the middle of Bahorel and Jehan’s intense arm wrestling competition, stop right behind his mate and bite down on his neck. Bahorel, letting out what Grantaire could only describe as high pitched squeak, was taken so off guard that Jehan uses the distraction to slam his clammy fist into the wooden table causing the whole living room to erupt with cheers. Bahorel, who was normally the sorest of all losers, didn't look to mad. He just stood up and was quick to envelope Feuilly in a bone crushing hug while digging his nose deep into his neck. Feuilly shouted a sling of curses out him, but once again his smile completely ruins any venom his words might’ve possessed.

 

Courfeyrac rushed past Grantaire and wasted no time lifting Jehan’s small frame up into the air and yelling, “ _ The fucking champ! Bow down!” _

 

Grantaire was quick to hustle into the living room and, dragging Bossuet down with him, get on his knees and started bowing at Jehan’s feet. Jehan laughed like a maniac while a blush slowly trailed up his cheeks and ears.

 

“Alright enough,” Eponine’s voice cracked through the laughing and joking easy enough. She was sitting in Combeferre’s lap, a grin etched onto her features, “time to decide who is the designated drunk driver tonight.”

 

“I volunteer Marius.” said someone. Probably Courfeyrac.

 

“Again?” Marius whined, but Combeferre was quick to shake his head.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

“Thanks mom.” Musichetta said, grinning Combeferre’s way who rolled his eyes at the childish nickname.

 

By the time everyone made it to the club Grantaire already felt happy and tingly. It almost made the sudden and constant urge to ask where Enjolras was go away--if only until Courfeyrac orders another round of shots and Grantaire slips in a sweet, drunken oblivion.

 

“Hey,” Grantaire asked, his voice only slurring slightly. Bossuet was falling out of his seat, only being held up by an annoyed looking Joly but the somewhat fond smile his was wearing refrains Grantaire from offering his assistance. Courfeyrac looked his way, his arm still snaked around a blushing Jehan, “where is a our dear leader?”

Courfeyrac smiled, “Miss him already?”

 

Grantaire bristled, knocking back another shot, “Just curious. Is he too good to come and get plastered with mere mortals?”

 

Jehan began laughing at something Musichetta said, causing Courfeyrac to remove his arm in order to maintain a steady conversation with Grantaire while in their drunken stupors. His eyebrows quirk together in a way that is so Courfeyrac Grantaire almost wanted to run his fingers over them, “He was gonna come. He normally doesn’'t like the idea of coming out to drink for fun, but he was still thinking about it. He decided against it last minute though.”

 

“Why?”

 

Courfeyrac, although his eyes are wide and alert, suddenly looked kind of uncomfortable. “Um, you know, he didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything. Wanted you to relax and have fun and all.”

 

“Idiot.” Grantaire breathed, shaking his head. “Fucking idiot, I don’t care what he does.”

 

“We tried to tell him that, it’s just...he’s trying, okay? You don’t want a relationship, and he sure as hell didn't, but you two still need to work this out. It sucks and it’s more than a little unfair but--”

 

“What the actual fuck are you talking ‘bout, Courf?” Grantaire asked. “Jesus, how much have you had to drink? There is nothing between Enjolras and I--nothing. That thing a couple of weeks ago was a horrible accident that I will regret probably for the rest of my life.”

 

Courfeyrac’s eyes squinted at him, “I know. Trust me, I know Enjolras didn't plan to act on this, and I’m guessing you’re not going or wanting to either now but,” Courfeyrac trailed off, his eyes taking in the sight of Grantaire’s confused expression before a sudden revelation dawns on him, “Wait, oh my gosh,  _ that idiot didn’t tell you. Did he?”  _ Courfeyrac is suddenly looking around, his eyes landing on all their friends, “ _ Shit,  _ I bet he didn’t tell anyone…”

 

“Tell me what? Tell everyone what?” Grantaire asked, his mind still buzzing from the alcohol and suddenly not wanting to put up with Courfeyrac’s rambling nonsense. 

 

Courfeyrac was suddenly getting up, Jehan sent him a curious look but didn't comment when Courfeyrac left their table. The music is loud and the strobe lights don’t exactly help Grantaire keep an eye on him, even if he is wearing pink pants. 

 

Grantaire shouted through the crowd, “Courf, what the hell?”

 

Courfeyrac looked back over his shoulder, gnawing on his bottom lip nervously as he dodges past people, “I just--I gotta. I’ll be right back. I gotta talk to Bahorel.”

 

And just like that he was gone. Lost in the crowd of people holding drinks and dancing. Jehan sent him a questioning look, but Grantaire just shrugged. “He’s probably hammered by now. Who knows what he is doing.”

 

Jehan smiled at that, “And you aren’t completely wasted,  _ Capital R?” _

 

“Nah,” Grantaire said, reaching for the last shot huddled around the multiple glasses of empty ones in the middle of their table. “But this oughta do it.” 

 

He knocks back the drink and Jehan and Musichetta cheer.

  
  


~~~

 

Grantaire was never one to be close or touchy-feely with anyone who wasn’t a hot-headed beta named Eponine. 

 

It was too much of a risk, or at least it had been years ago. Touching meant being close and being close led to scenting and scenting led to people finding out what he was.  _ Ruined and useless.  _ This fear didn’t go away, even after years of taking suppressants. The thought of someone finding out, someone realizing what he was and exposing him to the rest of the world without a second thought was horrifying. So, naturally, when it came to dancing with strangers in crowded, sketchy clubs Grantaire was an amatuer at best.

 

Tonight though, when trailing through the swarms of people (stupidly tall people. Fuck tall people) looking for a familiar face--well, he found one. One that he would probably rather not be familiar with though. 

 

Montparnasse wasn’t a bad guy. He had a fashion sense that would actually make Jehan question his for once and a face that was contoured to perfection. He dealt away illegal things for a living, sure, but his choice in leather boots and low v-neck shirts….Okay, maybe he was a sketchy guy, much like this club. He was known to be untrustworthy, but Eponine trusted him enough to get her the things she needed, even if all those things weren’t related to Grantaire. Which, evidently, reminded Grantaire that Eponine and Combeferre weren’t the only ones who knew about his secret before the incident at the Musain. Grantaire never really had a problem with Parnasse knowing, it was one of his conditions when he agreed to get Eponine his suppressants, but now that he was standing next him, his hands suddenly on his hips and eyes piercing into his--yeah, Grantaire had a problem with him knowing.

 

Still though, the strong hands felt good on Grantaire’s waist and Montparnasse didn’t smell to bad himself. And yes, even though omegas are known for their shitty senses and overall lack of actual worth, Grantaire wasn’t an idiot. He could smell Parnasse’s smoky incense mixing together with whatever cologne he was wearing, and although the two probably shouldn’t go together, and it could just be Grantaire’s fogged mind, but they did. So well. Grantaire almost didn’t even blame himself when he wrapped his arms around the taller, leaner man’s neck, pulling him closer.

 

“Nice to see you too, R.” Montparnasse said, his voice low and distinct.

 

“You remember me. I’m touched.” Grantaire said, rocking his hips back and forth to the steady beat of the music around him. Bodies, all moving and grabbing, seemed to smoosh around him and Montparnasse making him feel almost trapped within the swarm. Luckily, the alcohol buzzing through his system didn’t really make him care much.

 

“My best customer? How could I forget?” Montparnasse said, leaning forward making their foreheads dangerously close.

 

“You were late last time, asshole.” Grantaire said, not trying to hide the hostility out of his tone. Sure, maybe Grantaire was drunk enough to dance with him, but he wasn't gone enough to completely dismiss his anger about the suppressants. In reality, Montparnasse should be the one he wanted to throttle right now, not Enjolras who was as much of a victim to Grantaire being off of the suppressants too long as Grantaire was.

 

Montparnasse smirked at that, his fingers digging into Grantaire’s hipbones as he drew him in closer. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. You would make a perfect omega, R. Feisty and submissive.”

 

Grantaire snorted at that. Perhaps he would’ve punched the guy if he was sober, but right now all he wanted to do is let himself go. Feel nothing and think of nothing. Especially annoying blondes in red. So instead he settles on saying, “Not the submissive part, asshole. I’ll lead you through this dance if I want to. Do I fucking look like an omega to you?”

 

And, to Grantaire’s relief, Montparnasse hands circled around his back, his nose nuzzling against his ear as he whispered, “Nope. Not at all.”

 

“Good.” Grantaire mumbled and let himself fall into the world of nothingness, warm bodies, and strobe lights.

  
  


Grantaire didn't know how much time had passed. He’s had two more drinks and he felt like if Montparnasse’s arms were still firmly snaked around him he would be tumbling down in the middle of the dance floor. His mind briefly remembers catching Eponine’s eye when he had dipped his head back to give Montparnasse more room to suck on his neck, sending tingles radiating throughout his body. The look she threw him was almost enough to make his feel regretful of his actions, but not enough for him to pull away.

 

With his eyes closed he could dream. Dream of running his hair through thick blonde curls instead of Parnasse’s short, brown hair. He could imagine staring into blue eyes instead of glossed over black ones due to the lack of lights in the building. He could ignore the musky, smoky smell and reel his mind back to remember a different smell--a citrusy one. One that made Grantaire hum in appreciation when Montparnasse snuggled his nose into the crevice of his neck, scenting him.

 

Grantaire pulled back, confusion swirling around in his mind that was already gone, “What are...why? Smell bad, right? Beta…”

 

Montparnasse, obviously able to keep his liquor down better than Grantaire (Grantaire was not surprised or shocked by this, not at all jealous), just cracked a smile, “You may smell like a beta, but,” Montparnasse was suddenly leaning back in, his teeth nipping at Grantaire’s ear and suddenly Grantaire didn't find his touch pleasurable anymore, “when you’re all excited like this. If you lean in close...you smell  _ amazing.  _ Longing and wanting smells great on you, R.”

 

Grantaire was about to step back, panic swelling in his gut at Montparnasse’s words, but he never got the chance. His chest constricts, and his knees feel weak even while being supported by Parnasse’s arms.

 

He felt his anger before he saw him, bright, red hot, and furious. Grantaire almost smiled, he would’ve if he didn’t find himself suddenly terrified by the sudden mood change within him. Enjolras was always at his best when he was angry, whether it be scolding Grantaire or convincing a crowd. Anger was beautiful on Enjolras.

 

Enjolras. Enjolras was here. Was he? How--

 

“ _ Grantaire _ !”

 

Grantaire whirled around, his mouth open in shock at the sound of Enjolras’ voice. He had seen Enjolras angry, he thought he had seen him at his worst, but  _ now.  _ Grantaire swallowed, shrinking back suddenly. “Enjolras…?”

 

Enjolras wasn’t looking at him anymore, his eyes were locked on Montparnasse behind him who still had his hands on Grantaire’s side, although they had loosened greatly upon Enjolras’ arrival. Enjolras looked furious and out of place, his hair too neat to be appreciated in the middle of a sweaty dance floor and his skin glowing brightly against the harsh strobe lights littering the place. Anyone on the dance floor who was too close or, bless their soul, bumped into Enjolras immediately drew back upon feeling the waves of anger rolling off off him, leaving Enjolras standing with an unnatural amount of space around himself.

 

Grantaire, still shocked to see him here, decided to just go with it. Like he did on most occasions. He wasn’t a stranger to drunken hallucinations. He tried his best to smile, “Hi Apollo. I was, um--ha, wondering when you were gonna crawl out of your room and join the real wo--”

 

Enjolras took another step forward, completely invading any personal space Grantaire might’ve had and leaned over, his face inches from Montparnasse’s as he spit out, “Get your fucking hands off of him. Now.”

 

It was like Grantaire wasn’t even there. He frowned, actually starting to feel that Enjolras’ fury was having an effect on him. It might’ve sobered him up a little, but not enough to make him take control of the situation. He still found himself unsteady on his feet and not really sure if what was happening around him was actually happening or not. Very unsettling.

 

“ _ Oh you're his--oh _ , well you’re awfully pretty.” Montparnasse was saying and Grantaire couldn’t believe it.  _ He had called Enjolras pretty.  _ Grantaire didn’t even stoop that low.

 

Grantaire, the king of pissing off Enjolras in the most tense of times, couldn’t believe someone would dare try to antagonize him  _ now.  _ The thought of actually doing anything that would even set off Enjolras a little bit made Grantaire’s mind want to shut down. Montparnasse still continued, like an idiot-- is that how people saw him when he pissed off Enjolras during the meetings? Probably, “That scowl doesn't look too good on your face, sweetie. Brighten up, we’re just having a bit of fun.”

 

You see, Montparnasse was wrong. So wrong. Enjolras looked beautiful with a scowl on his face, that was just a fact. And second, no, Enjolras would never see this as ‘fun’. Grantaire didn’t comment though, his mouth still agape and his limbs frozen in place.

 

“Fun’s over.” Enjolras growled, firm. No negotiations. Grantaire could see how terribly Enjolras was trying to keep his cool, to be civil, it was almost painful to watch him hold it all in. “He’s drunk and not thinking right now. I’m taking him home.”

 

“I’m fine, Enjolras. I’m not  _ going  _ anywhere.” Grantaire said, and even he could hear his words slurring. Enjolras didn’t even look down at him. Grantaire frowned, reaching out to push at his chest, because that was a good idea, but instead found himself caught in Enjolras’ death grip. He pulled back, trying to free his now trapped wrist from Enjolras’ grasp. “Hey--Hey enough of that. Sto--”

 

“Are you?” Montparnasse asked. Still, Grantaire was invisible.

 

That didn’t stop Grantaire from gaping at him though, because obviously Montparnasse’ had a death wish. The atmosphere around the two were changing, hell even  _ the smell  _ was off putting. It made Grantaire freeze in anticipation for whatever would happen next. He wasn’t a part of the equation, the silent battle was between them, but Grantaire still found himself squashed in the middle of it. Great.

 

“I am.” Enjolras stated without missing a beat. “And if you were smart at all you would get your fucking hands off of him.”

 

Montparnasse paused and Grantaire braced himself, completely out of touch and too drunk to deal with the situation at hand. All he could focus on was how angry Enjolras was and how much his touch was affecting his already splitting mind. After a couple beats of intense staring, Montparnasse let go, he wasn’t that stupid, and Enjolras wasted no time pulling Grantaire to his side and hustling away.

 

It was only when Grantaire was forced to exit the dance floor that he knew he was dreaming, passed out, dying in a ditch somewhere--you get the gist. Afterall, the series of evidence around him supported it easily enough considering Enjolras arm had somehow found it’s way around Grantaire’s waist. It should’ve been somewhat familiar. Familiar because Grantaire had been wrapped up in Montparnasse’s arm, swaying steadily to the thumping music, for who knows how long. But this was Enjolras, and everything with Enjolras felt amazing. Felt new and enlightening and inspiring--even his touch.

 

Grantaire found himself nuzzling closer, almost instinctual. His nose ran along the soft fabric of Enjolras’ pea coat. Grantaire said, his voice only slightly muffled, “You’re so weird. So...weird.”

 

Enjolras didn’t say anything except proceeded to grip Grantaire’s waist tightly as he shoved past a few drunken customers. A spark ran through Grantaire like he had been electrocuted. It shouldn’t have felt his good as it did.  _ No one told him living life as a raging masochist was such hard work. _

 

“Can’t even take off your damn coat before busting in here all--why’d you do that.” Grantaire said, not so much asking a question but just rambling. He looked up at Enjolras through squinted, confused eyes. “Where are you--What? Where are we going?”

 

“Home.” Enjolras was quick to reply, shuffling past a group of beta girls who just glanced his way and instantly backed up, nearly spilling their drinks, to let Enjolras go by. Their eyes were filled with fear and their mouths were gaping Enjolras’ way as he passed.

 

_ “Oh my gosh,”  _ Grantaire breathed, looking back at the girls with wide eyes. “Why are you so angry? You need--I, you need to. Calm. Calmness. Right now, chief. Calm--”

 

Enjolras’ shoulders stiffened and for a moment Grantaire thought Enjolras was going to stop and scold him right then and there in the middle of the club. The thought made Grantaire’s stomach drop and he had no idea why. Enjolras was always mad at him about  _ something.  _ Perhaps being scolded in public would be a good thing for both them. If their lucky someone might find the scene hilarious enough to start taping and put it on the internet--boom, instant internet fame. 

 

Despite his fleeting thoughts, Grantaire’s stomach remained unsettled.

 

As soon as Enjolras pushes through the club’s door and into the cold night air Grantaire felt himself tipping forward, losing his sense of balance. Enjolras was quick to steady him, his grip on Grantaire’s waist not faltering as they continued down the street.

 

“Cold.” Grantaire murmured, his lips brushing against Enjolras’ shoulder as he snuggled against him for warmth. Grantaire smiled, despite himself, “ _ You’re warm _ .”

 

Enjolras stopped dead in his tracks and let out a string of curse words before pulling away from Grantaire and shaking his coat off. Enjolras was wearing more under the peacoat than Grantaire had on currently, a long sleeved, cotton shirt that clung to him in all the right places. Grantaire sucked in a hasty breath as Enjolras’ wrapped him up in his coat allowing warmth to spread through him.

 

The coat was soft and smelt heavily of Enjolras. What did Grantaire expect? And if as soon as the coat found it’s way onto his shoulders Grantaire took a deeper breathe in through his nose than necessary, well, Enjolras didn’t seem to notice.

 

Grantaire let out a pleased hum, “Mmm, thanks.”

 

Enjolras hovered a little, and said with a strained tone, “No problem.”

 

Grantaire craned his neck back, his muscles suddenly tense and beginning to ache. Enjolras sucked in a sharp breath at the simple action, his hand coming and resting on Grantaire neck making the other man open his mouth wide in shock. “Enjol--what are you--”

 

The pad of Enjolras’ thumb was pressing roughly into Grantaire’s throat making him choke back the urge to gag. Perhaps Enjolras hadn’t come to scold him after all, nope, his real motif was to strangle him outside with no witnesses. How clever of him.

 

Something Grantaire might have guessed was sadness and hurt if seeing it on someone else’s face crossed Enjolras’ before quickly being masked over by a scowl. Enjolras suddenly ripped his hand away, his eyes unnaturally glossy as he growled, “Let’s go.”

 

“Go where?” Grantaire whined, but couldn’t complain too much because Enjolras’ arm was once again around his waist leading him forward. “My--your coat--I have my own. I know you hate the cold, E. You--you hate it when--you’re cold now. It’s back at, you know. Courfeyrac has--”

 

“I’ll tell him to grab your coat.” Enjolras snapped. “We’re going. Now.”

 

“Where?” Grantaire asked again, a little more desperately this time until something in his mind suddenly clicked. Something so obvious that Grantaire cannot believe he was letting it go on for this long, drunk or not, it didn’t matter. Grantaire, suddenly much more sober than he probably should’ve been, dug his heels into the ground, somewhat slowing down Enjolras’ attempts at moving him forward, “Stop. Enjolras, fucking stop right now--I’m not going--!  _ Let me go, right now. _ ”

 

“We’re going.” Enjolras insisted, pulling him along. His eyes were fierce and staring ahead, still glossy against the street lamps they passed by from time to time.

 

“Says who? You? You have no fucking say in--Enjolras stop! I’m going back and--”

 

“And what?” A growl ripped through Enjolras as he came to a stop, sending Grantaire stumbling along with him. Enjolras was staring down at him now, and the resulting glare was nothing short of terrifying, “Go back and drink some more, dance with more strangers,  _ put yourself deliberately in danger?” _

 

“If I fucking want to.” Grantaire said with much more courage and confidence then he would ever give himself credit for. 

 

Enjolras huffed, “You can’t do that.  _ Not when I _ \--” Enjolras stopped, his nostrils suddenly flaring, his eyes daring to flutter closed before a look of irritation crossed his features, “ _ Jesus Grantaire,  _ do you even smell yourself?”

 

In any other context Grantaire would’ve laughed because the question was so Enjolras it hurt, but this context sucked and called for seriousness. Not Grantaire's forte, “No, actually I don’t Enjolras. Surprise, I know.”

 

Enjolras shook his head, “I don’t give a shit about what Bahorel said, okay?  _ I can smell you from a mile away, Grantaire.  _ I can recognize you as my--as an omega easily, and that-- _ that guy  _ you were dancing with knew it too. He had to-- _ the way he was looking at you,  _ like you were some--some  _ object-- _ ”

 

“Yes, he knows what I am.” Grantaire said, and was quick to continue when Enjolras looked down at him, his eyes wide and furious. “No, no, I mean--he knows, alright? Even before any of you did. He, um, gives Eponine my suppressants. He knows me--what I am, I mean. We’re...friends? Kinda.”

 

Grantaire didn’t know why in his mind he thought this would sooth Enjolras, but it sure as hell didn’t. Enjolras was  _ seething  _ now, his grip on Grantaire became tighter, “ _ He knows you’re an omega. And you danced with him. An alpha.  _ Even when you knew about..."

 

Grantaire shouldn’t feel conflicted by Enjolras’ words--he didn't. Absolutely not.

 

“Yes, I fucking did, Apollo.” Grantaire snapped, attempting to pull away from him, but failing epically. “It’s my life and I can do whatever the hell I want. I don’t have to ask for your blessing and shit. That isn’t  _ ever how things worked.  _ It is none of your business what I do and--and--nothing has changed! How many times do I have to say that before I get it through your big, stupid alpha brain that you have no say in what I do or--”

 

“How can you say that?” Enjolras asked suddenly, leaving Grantaire a bit confused. His cheeks were turning red because of the cold and Grantaire couldn't imagine his face was looking any better. Enjolras was suddenly laughing now, his head shaking back and forth, because--yeah. The laugh was cold and brittle though, nothing about it authentic, “It’s been  _ a month, Grantaire.  _ I don’t know if you are just being purposely obtuse at this point or just ignoring the problem by avoiding it at every cost. I don’t have a say in what you do and I’m never going to pretend that I do but-- _ cut me some fucking slack _ .” Enjolras’ hand was suddenly tightening, squeezing Grantaire like he might bolt any minute, “Don’t say this isn’t my business, if not only a little bit. Whether I like it, whether  _ we like it or not, it is. Now it is." _

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Grantaire said.

 

Enjolras was staring at him, his jaw clenched too tightly to not be concerning. He shook his head, slow and deliberate as if disciplining a child. His hands curl around the red fabric on Grantaire’s arms, imbedding his chilled fingers into Grantaire’s biceps. His eyes never left his when he said, slowly, “You  _ really  _ don’t know why I’m doing this--why I would do any of this to you? Why I insist on walking you home every night after the meetings and even sometimes after your done working? Why I’m here pulling you away from a stupid situation that you got yourself into? Not a fucking clue!?”

 

“I don’t fucking know!” Grantaire said, exasperated. “You think you’re doing me a favor or some shit like that? You’re looking at me differently now because of...what--me, yeah.”

 

Enjolras looked like a mixture of horrified, annoyed, and angry. Grantaire was so confused, so lost in Enjolras’ painfully earnest gaze that he felt sickened by it. There was no helping or changing the situation at hand though, not when Enjolras’ was being so cryptic about everything. Enjolras was bold and said what he believes in and what he  without bothering to think of the consequences...seeing him hold back the way he was now was  _ unsettling _ . It made Grantaire feel responsible for ruining this great, but potentially stupid, trait that their leader had. The knowledge of this didn't sit well in Grantaire’s stomach.

 

“You think--How could you…?” Enjolras was left gaping at him.

 

Grantaire gritted his teeth, his shoulders hunching over against the cold and Enjolras’ scrutinizing stare, “Just--I don’t know--fucking spit it out! What the fuck am I doing that is making everything so unbearable for--”

 

“ _ We’re soulbonded, _ Grantaire. Fucking dammit.” Enjolras spits out, fury lacing every syllable of every word that strike Grantaire down as easily as any demeaning glare of Enjolras’ would. Still, his words don’t completely register and leave Grantaire’s mind with nothing but a soft, static sound playing in the background. He knew every emotion playing through him at that moment was evident on his face, on full display for all to see. It only grows worse when he can feel his knees start to buckle, his fingers going numb, and his eyes burning in his skull. Every sense, no matter how weak, was on end and alert and--

 

_ what. _

 

“There is no way you couldn’t have known.  _ Couldn’t have felt it. _ ” Enjolras breathed, mist circling around his mouth. “I wondered-- _ I fucking wondered why Eponine hadn’t tried to kill me yet, fuck.  _ I didn’t tell anyone, not even Combeferre, because I thought you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it--we would tell everyone when we were ready and--and how we were going to work out how to deal with this and-- _ but you didn’t even know?  _ I've been wondering for weeks-- _ weeks _ \--why the fuck you are making this so difficult for me-- _ for both of us. Dammit Grantaire." _

 

“That’s impossible. You’re insane.” Grantaire bit out, shaking his head. Tears were brimming the corners of his eyes but he didn't care. Nothing mattered. Nothing was ever going to be right ever again. He knew that, despite Eponine’s comforting words, the moment Enjolras’s hand wrapped around his arm at the Musain nearly a month ago  _ he knew.  _

 

Grantaire’s mind suddenly reeled back to Eponine telling him she knew Combeferre was her soulmate the very first time they touched. Grantaire had known Enjolras for more than two years. Had he never shaken Enjolras’ hands? Patted him on the back? Rubbed shoulders when passing through the tight quarters of the Musain?  _ Nothing? _

 

Grantaire gulped when not one singular incident came to mind. Enjolras and him weren’t close. They fought and therefore kept their distance to avoid anything too serious. They were in each other’s company constantly due to the fact that they had the same friends and were at the Musain every week for usually more than one occasion. They were like two sides of the same coin, complete opposites of each other, always close but never touching--except that time. The sparks, the out of body experience, the heat swelling inside of him and then bursting like a wildfire and setting him aflame. He recalled the moment Enjolras’ hand landed on his arm followed by the feeling of ecstasy and longing. He had brushed off those feelings and based them all on the soul fact that he was late taking his suppressants. It was the easiest and quickest way to rationalize it all, but now looking back on it the story didn’t add up like it would’ve had Grantaire thought about it five minutes ago.

 

Grantaire, because of his job, was around alphas all day long. They crowd around him as a bartender, their eyes glossy and their breaths short and quick while demanding more drinks. Although a few alphas at some times had looked at Grantaire strangely, none had dared taken more than two steps towards him before turning around and focusing on whatever drink or omega they were playing around with that night. And Grantaire had certainly never felt the need to comply to any alpha’s wants--except when Enjolras’ very touch sent him into a different world. A world where he craved his touch, his lips on his neck, his fingers trailing up his bare skin slowly--

 

“Insane?” Enjolras growled, pulling Grantaire back into the real world. “I’m insane? Yes, I’m insane because I haven’t slept in days because my mind won’t shut off--won’t stop thinking about what shit you are getting yourself into, Grantaire! You are reckless, careless, and--and maybe that was okay before, for you I mean, but now,” Enjolras broke off, closing his eyes and revealing two crescent shaped bags hanging from each eye. They showed anguish, fatigue, and desperation that was more than evident in Enjolras’ voice. He opened them, revealing bright blue eyes, “Now I can’t _stand_ the thought of you being in danger. I can’t explain to you in words how it affects me, thinking of you alone without protection. If anything were to happen to you and I wasn't there-- _I couldn't--”_ Enjolras’ eyes suddenly go very wide, staring down at Grantaire like he was the only thing that matters. The look was misplaced--he’s seen it on Enjolras’ face before...but never directed his way. “ _Let me protect you._ _It’ll kill me if I don’t.”_

 

It should sound stupid. If it was coming from anyone else it would've been. But this was Enjolras. Enjolras who was full of conviction and passion and Grantaire couldn't find it in himself to simply brush him off.  _ He couldn't.  _

 

Grantaire’s breath hitched as he tore out of Enjolras’ bone crushing hold, his feet stumbling back and daring to make him fall. He straightened himself, his eyes now blurring over with tears. He blinked them away as roughly as he could and started off, his footsteps quick and loud against the frozen cement. He couldn't think--couldn't  process Enjolras’ words without passing them off as a drunken hallucination. He couldn't. He didn't look back, but he could hear Enjolras following him. The sound had become familiar to him now. Enjolras’ footsteps were loud and to the point, especially when he was angry.

 

“Leave me alone if it causes you so much pain.” Grantaire barked back at him, refusing to meet his eyes. “Go home and fucking leave me alone."

 

“Oh, I would.” Enjolras growled, sounding thoroughly angry and put out. Completely seething with rage. “Trust me Grantaire, I fucking would if I could.  _ But I can’t.  _ Don’t you understand that?”

 

“Horse shit.” Grantaire said, stuffing his hands into the coat--Enjolras’ coat. His breathing stops when Enjolras’ intoxicating scent found it’s way up his nose and before he could think better of it, he was shimmying the coat off of his shoulders, his steps never faltering when he eventually threw it to the ground. His throat felt tight, like he may scream if he dares try to loosen it. He looked down, the wind cutting into his face like daggers.

 

“What are you-- _ Grantaire.” _

 

“Go home, Enjolras.” Grantaire said, his voice sounding way more broken than he means it to be. He sniffled, his nose dripping half because of the cold and half because of the dozen of tears running down his frozen cheeks. He watched them as the wind made them splatter against his shirt or fly behind him with exerted force. He felt pathetic, absolutely and positively defeated.

 

_ ‘Crying is for the weak--crying is something weak, defenseless, and no good, defiled omega do when caught in a situation they don’t know how to deal with. Lack the strength to deal with. Tears will get you nowhere except on some sick fuck’s bed that will get off on your weakness, idiot. Are you weak, Grantaire? Do you want to give them the satisfaction that they have truly and utterly ruined you? Hmm?’ _

 

And Grantaire didn't know how to deal with this information. Not when it was dumped on him so quickly, so suddenly.

 

_ Enjolras and him were soulbonded. Soulmates.  _

 

A choked sob escaped past Grantaire’s lips and that’s it. Everything was over. The ground could come up and swallow him up now and he wouldn’t protest at all. He would welcome it with open arms--the chance to be taken away to an unknown place where things either made more sense than they do now or made no sense at all to a point where even knowing his own name means nothing. 

 

He stopped walking at one point, although he can’t remember when, because the sound of his feet stomping against the ground had disappeared and Enjolras was next to him--behind him. He was stopped to, his hand slowly moving up Grantaire’s bare arm before grasping on tight and turning him slowly around. Grantaire felt too weak and confused and drunk to care.

 

Upon seeing Grantaire face to face, all the anger suddenly drained out of Enjolras’ and all that was left of him was bone-crushing  _ regret.  _ Enjolras let out a shaky breath at the sight of Grantaire’s blotchy red face before quickly wrapping the same pea coat around his shoulders. His hands lingered on the fabric too long as Grantaire sloppily pulled his arms through, his movements slow and meaningless.

 

“Grantaire…” Enjolras began, his voice soft and almost gentle. A tone foreign to Grantaire’s ear.

 

Grantaire shook his head, cutting him off and instead burying his lips into the lapels of the jacket, “Please just-- _ no.  _ Not now. I-I can’t...not-- _ Please Enjolras, don’t-- _ ”

 

“Okay.” Enjolras said, nodding. “Okay.” There was silence amongst them, nothing but the wind rushing past them and blowing their clothing and hair in awkward angles. Enjolras and him were a lot of things--but silent had never been one of them. Enjolras seemed to realize this and, after only a few seconds of hesitation, he reached over into the pocket of his own jacket and pulled out a matching pair of fluffy gloves. Without a word, he slipped them on to Grantaire’s chilled fingers, rubbing them together for a beat or two with his own hands before looking back up at Grantaire’s face to examine his expression.

 

Grantaire was speechless, jaw hanging wide open.

 

Enjolras took a deep breath before interlocking the fingers of Grantaire’s hand he had been warming up. Grantaire felt suddenly at ease but also like he was about to fall off the edge of something when Enjolras started walking, tugging Grantaire gently behind him. Grantaire didn't protest this time, just ducked his head against the cold and asked, quietly, “Where?”

 

“Home.” Enjolras said without missing a beat, and that single word shouldn’t have multiple meanings to it--not to Grantaire, but it did. 

 

Grantaire was relieved when he somehow ended up on Eponine and Combeferre’s apartment complex doorstep. He was ushered inside and thinks about telling Enjolras that his key to their apartment was still in his coat pocket back at the pub, but Enjolras looked so focused and troubled in front of him that he couldn’t bring himself to intervene when he strolled up to the receptionist desk.

 

The conversation between him and the receptionist was a blur and he mentally made a note to ask Enjolras later how he managed to get the lady to give him a key to Eponine and Combeferre’s apartment when he wasn’t tear-stained and drunk. It wasn’t until they reach the stairs that Enjolras grip on Grantaire’s hand started to falter. Eponine and Combeferre’s apartment was on the fourth floor in a building with no fucking elevator. The walk was a bitch, but after years of climbing it anyone can get used to it. 

 

Now though, Grantaire found that his gloved fingers are slipping out of Enjolras’ grasp as he struggled to keep up with Enjolras, his knees feeling weaker than ever. He was drunk and had been on his feet all night, be it dancing with strangers or walking with Enjolras down the street.  _ In short, he was exhausted,  _ and each step he struggled up shows it.

 

Enjolras turned around after only their first flight of stairs was completed--two more to go. He eyes Grantaire suspiciously, “Grantaire, are you--”

 

“Fine.” Grantaire breathed, taking a step forward and nearly face planting into the wall beside him. Enjolras was quick to steady him, his grip on his hand clamping down roughly before a sigh escapes past his lips. For a second Grantaire thought Enjolras was going to push him away, probably to have him sit down for a few minutes before continuing up to stairs. The thought of Enjolras handing Grantaire the key and leaving him there was terrifying, but one Grantaire wouldn’t exactly turn away as impossible.

 

It’s only when Enjolras turned around so that they were face to face that Grantaire could see the softness in his eyes, “Come here.” Enjolras’ said softly, untangling their hands and holding out his arms.

 

Grantaire wasn’t sure what Enjolras meant, but then again he was never one to not do something Enjolras wanted him to do no matter how idiotic the proposal was. Grantaire took a tired step forward, willing trapping himself in Enjolras’ arms.

 

Enjolras’ hosisted Grantaire’s smaller frame up into his arms with ease, bridal style, and Grantaire thanked the alcohol still running through his veins that somewhat calm him down. He would probably be a jittering, blushing fool if he wasn’t as plastered as he was.

 

By the time Enjolras had carried him up the two flight and they are standing in front of Eponine and Combeferre’s door, Grantaire’s face was smooshed inside the crook of Enjolras’ neck, taking in his scent like he was some fine essence to appreciate. He smelt like citrus, fresh and completely addicting. His fingers were fumbling with the curls on the back of Enjolras’ neck, cold and clammy, and his arms were circling around his neck, drawing him closer.

 

It was instinctual. Something Grantaire couldn't fathom not doing when in Enjolras’ arms. This fact alone should’ve terrify Grantaire, but for whatever reason Enjolras’ touch was enough to make him forget. Forgetting was what Grantaire desperately needed--starting at the beginning of his pathetic life and ending now so he can truly enjoy this moment. A moment of being so close to Enjolras he can almost feel every breath he was taking, every slight movement or jerk. A moment of utter bliss just to bask in and not think about whether it was right or wrong or whether or not it made sense. 

 

Just  _ enjoy it. _

 

Grantaire’s lips were behind Enjolras’ ear by the time Enjolras managed to open the apartment door. And if Grantaire heard a low moan arise from the back of Enjolras’ throat--he sure as hell didn't say anything about it. 

 

Enjolras didn’t set Grantaire down until he was by the couch, and even then he took his sweet time carefully laying Grantaire’s body amongst the piles of blankets, trash, and pillows. Grantaire tried not to mourn the loss of touch, in the back of his mind he knew it was only temporary, but still the loss still seems too sudden to really not be disappointed by it.

 

“You know,” Enjolras said, shocking Grantaire into looking up at him. “Ferre has been my friend since...forever really. I always wondered why he never wanted me to stop by or study here when it was more convenient than going to, like, the library. I guess I understand now.”

 

“Yeah.” Grantaire said because what else was there to say.

 

Enjolras, who had been looking at everything other than Grantaire, not deliberately, just taking in the place, suddenly looked at him now. “How long have you been here?”

 

Grantaire rubs his eyes, “Over two years.” 

 

Enjolras looked pained as he glances down at Grantaire, his jaw was set tightly and his tired eyes sparkle against the lights, “I’m sorry, Grantaire. For everything.”

 

Grantaire wanted to ask what the fuck he is talking about and how many things  _ that  _ could mean, but all he can manage is a small nod of recognition before flopping back against the couch, his aching back practically screaming out in pleasure.

 

Enjolras nodded, suddenly not meeting his eyes, “I’m going to get you some water. Rest.”

 

Enjolras ducked into the kitchen, his back turned to Grantaire as he disappeared. Grantaire managed to keep his eyes open for about two more seconds before surrendering and letting them flutter closed and ultimately losing the battle and falling into a deep sleep.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire makes some changes and Courfeyrac has some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just rant for a second here how much i fucking hate past tense. I NEVER WRITE IN PAST TENSE. GO CHECK OUT MY OTHER BOOKS I DEFINITELY DON'T. Why I did for this little shit of a novel will forever be a mystery and a mistake. Sorry you lovely people have to deal with it. Enjoy :) (also read end notes, plz)

Grantaire was never one to beat around the bush. Although he wouldn’t necessarily describe himself as a man who always spoke his mind, he would also never shy away from a challenge when it is placed before him. 

 

Eponine was the first person Grantaire smelt when his mind finally started working again, her sweet cinnamon scent instantly calming him. Their conversation was quick and caused Grantaire’s stomach to drop. Eponine glared his way, “Did he do that to you?”

 

“What?” Grantaire asked, still a little out of it. His head felt like it was  _ pounding. _

 

Eponine’s gaze dropped down to the pea coat Grantaire was still wrapped up in with disdain evident in her expression, “He didn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, right R?  _ Please,  _ tell me Enjolras d--”

 

“Enjolras? What are you--” It’s only then that Grantaire followed Eponine’s new line of focus towards his...neck? He walked over to the bathroom mirror without finishing his thought and drew in a breath of surprise at seeing numerous amounts of bites and marks, dark and blue, littering his neck. He swallowed, his mind reeling back to Montparnasse’s lips trailing over his jugular, the hurt look in Enjolras’ eyes when he pressed his thumb to a particularly noticeable reddish black mark right on the underside of his chin. He shook his head wildly, refusing to meet Eponine’s gaze when he said, “It wasn’t him. I--he wouldn’t. It was...a mistake.”

 

Eponine threw him a dubious look, but didn't push him on the topic although it’s obvious they will be talking about it later. He didn't stay long though, just assured her that he was fine and that he will explain everything to her later before quickly showering, chugging down two large glasses of water, huddling up in a large coat that may or may not hide most of his neck, and making his way towards the Musain.

 

He knew he should wait, get his mind and thoughts together first before busting into the place, but his feet move quickly down the crowded street with a purpose. He had to know. He could no longer just rely on his own feelings and thoughts, not in these situations. His shitty omega instincts cannot be trusted. He needed proof that he wasn't going insane, that this was really happening to him.

 

To his relief, the Musain, despite it only being the late afternoon, was still serving food to some of his friends. His eyes latch onto Courfeyrac though, his smile wide and his arm fitting snugly around Jehan’s shoulders. He looked to be in a deep, but carefree, conversation with Marius who looked slightly uncomfortable. The freckled man had an all too familiar blush on his cheeks making it obvious to anyone who knew Marius at all (or have had at least a five minute conversation with him) that he was talking about Cosette.

 

They have been together for almost as long as Grantaire had known both of them, but Marius is still hopelessly lovesick puppy when it came to her, something that Grantaire and the others, especially Enjolras, doubt will ever change.

 

He strode up to them and Jehan was the first one to peek over Courfeyrac’s shoulder and notice him. He smiled, “Look who is alive! R, how are you--”

 

“You knew.” Grantaire said, his eyes narrowing down on Courfeyrac. The man’s smile immediately fell off his face. Grantaire didn't break eye contact, “How?”

 

Courfeyrac let out a stuttering sigh, his eyes already telling Grantaire that he knew exactly what he was talking about. He turned towards Jehan who was a confused mess under his arm with a warm, smile, “Jehan, you are so much better at dealing with the problems of one’s love life. Would you mind talking to Marius alone while I talk to R really quick?”

 

Jehan looked confused, no doubt, but didn't argue, “Of course. We’ll go, um--Marius, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you? Wanna go down to that burger joint just down the block?”

 

Marius, who recognized the tense atmosphere as much as Jehan did, agreed with him immediately and then they were off, leaving Courfeyrac and Grantaire alone in a booth. Grantaire’s hand fumble around the top of the table, struggling to stay still when the aura around them had turned so serious. Courfeyrac was loveable and fun and everything nice. His scent, despite being an alpha, had always calmed Grantaire--even in the early days. He might’ve not have smelt like something in particular, but if he smelt like an emotion it was be tranquil, something completely at peace. Ever being in such an insufferable mood while around Courfeyrac should be a crime, but Grantaire knew backing down wouldn’t get him anywhere. His gaze remained on Courfeyrac, hard and firm.

 

Courfeyrac started, “What do you need, R?”

 

“Explain.” Grantaire said simply. 

 

Courfeyrac sighed, obviously uncomfortable under Grantaire’s gaze, “Look I--first off, I just wanna say...if it makes you feel any better this isn’t a choice I get to make--same goes for Bahorel. We’re alphas and I’m sure you understand that our senses are amplified far more than--well, you get it. I didn’t want to impose on your privacy and I wouldn’t if I had a choice. You know I wouldn’t.”

 

“How strong is it?” Grantaire asked, catching Courfeyrac off guard. “When did you know?”  _ about me and Enjolras  _ went unsaid, it didn't need to be.

 

“Um,” Courfeyrac’s eyes waver, looking anywhere but at Grantaire. “probably the moment you and Enjolras first touched. It wasn’t hard to tell, R. I-I thought you would know...but I guess only Enjolras, Bahorel, and I could really feel it. The, um,  _ bond. _ ”

 

“But,” Grantaire shook his head, “Bahorel I-- _ I spoke with him.  _ I asked him if I still passed as a beta and--and--”

 

“And you do,” Courfeyrac finished, with a shrug. “He wasn’t lying. Actually, I’m almost positive everyone except Enjolras who looks at you don't bother looking at you twice. Not even an alpha. You definitely appear as a beta just--just a beta that is  _ definitely  _ soulbonded to an alpha.”

 

Courfeyrac said the last words like they aren’t meant to ever be said--and that was probably because they aren’t. Betas and alphas can’t be soulbonded--hell, they can’t even bond normally. Their genetic makeup doesn't work together, not like that. And yes, although some alphas and betas choose to be together without engaging in the physical aspects of a relationship, it was still uncommon.  _ But to be soulbonded was just impossible.  _ Grantaire burried the tip of his fingers into his damp curls, trying to compose himself.  _ To think rationally about this cluster fuck. _

 

“You called him last night, didn’t you? At the club.” Grantaire said, his eyes still glued to the table. 

 

Courfeyrac was silent for a moment before saying, “Yes.” When Grantaire groaned, Courfeyrac continued, “I couldn’t help it, R! You didn’t know, no one else knew, and you were grinding up on this other guy-- _ this other alpha-- _ and maybe it was Enjolras’ fault for not telling you sooner but...I knew Enjolras would be mad and--and I personally wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you go home with another guy without you even knowing you’re soulbonded to someone else. I never told Enjolras to rip you away--just to come check on you is all. He worries about you. He’ll never tell any of us, not even ‘Horel and I, but he does. It’s clear in everything he does lately... _ how could you not notice?” _

 

When Grantaire’s eyes come up to glare his way, Courfeyrac winced, “I’m sorry. My bad--none of my business. But…”

 

“ _ How obvious is it.”  _ Grantaire gritted, his teeth clamped together roughly as he awaited his answer.

 

Courfeyrac looked pained, but answered honestly, “Truthfully?  _ It’s painfully obvious that-- _ you know, you and Enj _.  _ To any alpha anyway--that guy you were dancing with last night had some guts considering your scent.”

 

That's no surprise. Montparnasse always did live life on the edge of things. Probably why Grantaire doesn't trust him very much. 

 

“My scent? What about my scent? Do I smell like an omega now or--”

 

“No, no, you’re still very beta surprisingly but...you  _ definitely  _ smell like Enjolras.” Courfeyrac choked out the last few words, trying to shrug it off casually but ultimately failing. Grantaire couldn’t exactly blame him. Having someone else’s scent on you meant really only one thing, and Grantaire doubted Courfeyrac wanted to really wrap his mind around why Grantaire smelt like one of hi best fucking friends.

 

Grantaire freezed, his eyes going impossibly wide at Courfeyrac’s words, “That’s impossible. I just--he walked me home. We barely held hands, I--I have barely even seen him since around a month ago when-- _ Courf,  _ I swear. Enjolras and I are nothing, I don’t think he even likes me, like, just as a person in gener--”

 

“R, calm down.” Courfeyrac said, his voice soothing and his scent calming. “I said you smell like Enjolras, not  _ smell like your his.  _ More like, something he owns. Like an old sweater or something.”

 

“Gee, thanks.”

 

Courfeyrac shrugged, “You wanted the truth.”

 

He did. Grantaire was tired of being left in the dark, confused by this whole ordeal. It made everything so complicated in his life. All he wanted was relief, a break from this mess.

 

“So, how do I make it go away? The smell I mean. That is what is giving me away, right? If I don’t smell like Enjolras then everything goes back to normal…?” 

 

Courfeyrac bit his lip roughly causing Grantaire’s hopes to splash down the drain, “Not  _ exactly,  _ R. It’s more--it’s like he’s courting you...making everyone is a room understand that you are his, in a way...it’s unintentional because  _ it’s Enjolras _ , I don’t think the guy has seriously dated someone since--forever ago, and most alphas do it instinctively anyway, but the fact still remains.”

 

_ “Courting?”  _ Grantaire choked over the word, causing Courfeyrac to shake his head.

 

“Okay, okay, maybe I said that wrong. More like marking? Um, claiming territory…? No, that sounds so fucked up and--I don’t fucking know man! It’s usually a thing alphas do to their mates after bonding but….you two are soulbound so--I’m clueless when it comes to you two and how all that shit works.  _ Look, _ just...talk to him. Or at least to Ferre and Ep but--you two need to talk and I can only help you understand this so much. All I can tell you is yes, you do appear to be a beta, and yes, you are definitely soulbonded to Enjolras and it is very, very noticeable. To any alpha anyway, but that might change in time. Okay?”

 

“Thanks Courf.” Grantaire managed. What else was he supposed to say?

 

Courfeyrac reached over, grasping Grantaire’s hand with a small smile on his lips, “Hey, it’ll be all work out, okay? I know this is probably a lot to take in and honestly I admire your strength, R. We’re here for you. All of us. Don’t hesitate to talk to us or, I don’t know, find comfort in us. We won’t leave you or ignore you no matter what.”

 

“I don’t deserve you guys.” Grantaire said, laughing a bit when Courfeyrac squeezed his hand tightly.

 

“‘Course you do. Have you seen your smile? Who can turn down a smile like that?” Courfeyrac teased, his charm and natural giddiness coming back easily. 

 

They talk for a few more minutes before the door of the Musain was pushed open revealing Jehan and Marius’ return. They are holding multiple bags of food, much more than just for two people, and grin when they see Grantaire is still there.

 

“We brought food!” Marius exclaimed excitedly, dropping the bags on the table and squeezing over next to Grantaire while Jehan took a seat next to Courfeyrac. “I’m stuffed. Hope you’re hungry, Grantaire. Jehan didn’t know what you liked so he practically got one of everything off the menu.”

 

“Not true.” Jehan defended himself weakly, biting back a small. “Take whatever you like, R. My treat.”

 

Courfeyrac was already ripped the foil off of his second burger when he grinned, “Hope that goes for me too, babe.”

 

“Pig.” Jehan giggled, but burst into a serious a choked laughed when Courfeyrac’s fingers run up and down his ribs, tickling him senselessly. 

 

Grantaire, despite the news he had just received, decided to push it to the side for now and instead welcome his friends company and hospitality. He’ll worry about what the future holds for him after he is done chowing down at least three bacon and cheese burgers. 

 

~~~

 

“R?” Floreal grinned at him from behind the counter, her hands covered in thick, rubber gloves and hovering over the massive overflow of dishes piled up in the sink. Her thin hair was pulled back tightly and sat on top of her head in a neat bun. And, despite the murky atmosphere the Corinthe always seemed to hold no matter the time of day, her smile still seemed to warm Grantaire’s heart even though the past week had probably been one of the hardest in his entire life.

 

And Grantaire’s life wasn’t exactly a bucket of rainbows and flowers.

 

Her thin brows were scrunched together in confusion as she made her way towards him, hastily wiping whatever gross contents from the gloves away on her apron. She stopped when she reached the edge of the bar, Grantaire was slumped over on a stool right before her, “You workin’ tonight? I thought it was just me and a couple newbies tonight but--”

 

“Just came to say bye.” Grantaire said, swift and to the point. He tried his best not to be too affected by the way Floreal’s face fell at his words.

 

She spluttered, “What? You’re--I mean, what are you saying?  _ You’re actually quitting, R?  _ We both joke about how we are all gonna leave this shit hole behind one day but-- _ really?” _

 

Grantaire nodded, resisting the urge to ask Floreal for one last drink. She probably wouldn’t charge him, their manager left around an hour ago and for the night shift the Corinthe was actually pretty empty. “Really. Just finished my last shift this afternoon.”

 

Floreal swayed backwards on her heels, like hearing Grantaire’s words physically pained her. She swallowed, “I’m happy for you, R. Don’t get me wrong, now. I really am. I just--I’ll miss ya is all. Everyone else who works here is intolerable but...you’ll be better off somewhere else, yeah?”

 

Grantaire forced a small smile onto his face, “Yeah. I’ll keep in touch though. I won’t leave you to dealing with all these fucking sluggers, alright? I still need a drink every now and then--every now and then though is gonna be whenever you are working though.”

 

Floreal, to Grantaire’s relief, seemed genuinely amused by that, “You know my schedule. Don’t forget about me, baby.”

 

Grantaire rounded the counter just as Floreal pushed the side door open and immediately enveloped her into a hug. Floreal didn’t hold back, just grabbed onto his shoulder blades for dear life and squeezed. Floreal always smelt nice, always comforting and welcoming despite her being an alpha. She was tall, and slightly on the thinner side of the spectrum, but still knew how to throw a punch and intimidate the hell out of anyone who dared caused a ruckus in the Corthine. Grantaire, if he was honest, was terrified of her at first. She was scary, plain and simple--Grantaire could easily see the alpha in her the very first time they worked together. Eventually though, over the course of a year working together her protective walls fell down, revealing a kind-hearted soul who just didn’t take shit from anyone. Period. 

 

Grantaire loved her as much as he did any of the Amis and hugging her now while knowing deep down he probably wouldn’t ever be allowed to see her again caused his heart to clench up. Eventually though, they broke apart and Floreal gave him one last hard slap on the back and wished him good luck with whatever new job he got that beat out working at this shit hole. Floreal didn’t ask Grantaire where he was working, which Grantaire was grateful for. Floreal never seemed to be the interrogating type--if she wanted to know something she would figure it out sure, but she let Grantaire off the hook this time. 

 

Yeah, too bad this ‘new and better job’ Floreal was congratulating him for didn’t really exist. Bummer.

 

~~~

 

Joly, strangely enough, was the first one to notice. Or--no, that’s wrong. He was the first one to  _ say  _ anything on the subject matter. It had been a week since Grantaire quit his job at the Corinthe, three weeks and half since Enjolras brought him home and dropped the soulbond bomb on his head, a week and half since Eponine found out about his recent decisions (not pretty), and two and half weeks since he was last supposed to take his suppressants. He hadn’t.

 

Courfeyrac and Bahorel noticed, obviously, but were kind enough to keep their mouths shut about it. And, considering Grantaire was kind of busy avoiding Enjolras like the plague, he didn’t notice either. Eponine and Combeferre only noticed because he literally  _ lived  _ with them. But Joly, while a beta, still had a few keen sense that came in handy. That--or Joly was just really hyper aware of everything around him.

 

“R,” He started, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of Robin William’s voice coming from the screen before them. His shoulder dug deeper into Grantaire’s side, his body dipping down farther into the couch until he was basically using Grantaire’s entire left side as a pillow. Grantaire didn’t mind, just nudged him back slightly, his eyes still trained on the TV, “you...you smell different.”

 

Grantaire could practically feel Courfeyrac wince--and he was on the other side of Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s apartment. Grantaire steadied his breathing, refusing to look down and meet Joly’s eyes, “Hmm, okay.”

 

“It’s not bad.” Joly said quickly, keeping his voice down as to not draw too much attention. Beside him, Bossuet’s eyes were fixated on the screen, completely entranced by  _ Good Will Hunting  _ or Matt Damon--Grantaire wasn’t sure. Joly continued, cautiously, “I just--you smell a little... _ off?  _ Like, um--again, sorry, R if I’m being pushy--but you just don’t really smell like yourself.”

 

Grantaire couldn’t help but chuckle at that, leaning harder against the couch’s arm, “Well, if I’m being honest, whatever I smelt like before wasn’t really, um,  _ me.” _

 

“So, wait, does that mean-- _ oh.”  _ Joly’s voice, while still hushed and going unnoticed--all except Courfeyrac who was eyeing them from the love seat him and Jehan were currently occupying--sounded revealing, like he had just figured out a big secret. Grantaire couldn’t help himself, he looked down and was shocked to see Joly, his temple smashed against his shoulder, grinning up at him,  _ “Oh.  _ Okay then. I like it.”

 

“You--wait, what?”

 

Joly just nodded, smile still evident on his face, while he turned his attention back to the movie, “I like it. You smell nice, R.”

 

Grantaire seriously doubted his words. No one liked  _ defiled omega smell _ . But he would be lying if his heart didn’t warm up just a little bit at his friend’s reassuring words. 

 

“Thanks Jolllly.”

 

“Okay, but seriously.” Musichetta suddenly perked up from her spot on Bossuet’s lap, “Matt Damon needs to just cry it out--real talk though--like...the boy just needs to come clean about his feelings and deepest insecurities and everything will be  _ fine.” _

 

“Is that your final prediction, Chetta?” Jehan said, smiling, obviously having seen the movie before. Musichetta was the queen of calling out endings to movies, which in a way ruined and made movie nights.

 

Musichetta grinned, “I’m not saying that’s what’s gonna happen. But it should. It’ll make Matt Damon’s life a lot less angstier.”

 

And around forty minutes later Matt Damon did cry and Bossuet almost got on his knees and bowed down to Musichetta for being a ‘movie goddess’. Joly was quick to join him leaving the whole room in a flurry of giggled.

 

~~~

 

One by one people began noticing the differences in Grantaire, mostly by his scent. 

 

He was off suppressants. Not showering twice a day with special shampoo. Hell, some days he wouldn’t even shower at all.

 

“R,” Combeferre had sat him down one night after a terribly terrific casserole Eponine had attempted to make in order to brighten the mood. She knew about R, even to a beta it was obvious he was an omega by now. Now though, Combeferre sat before him, looking very serious, “How long have you been off? Just out of curiosity."

 

Grantaire shrugged, “Almost three weeks now.”

 

Grantaire hadn’t come to any of the meetings since that night and for once Eponine wasn’t forcing him to go either. 

 

Combeferre closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “That’s dangerous, R. You can’t just take medication like that for two years and then--then  _ not.  _ You’re body needs time to adjust, gradually.”

 

“I’m adjusting just fine.” Grantaire said simply. “I’m an omega--it’s as simple as that. I can’t hide it anymore--not with Enjolras and...I’m sure you both know about that by now.”

 

“Fuck Enjolras,” Eponine insisted, her eyes glowering at the mention of his name. “Who gives a fuck whether you are soulbound or not, R. Which, by the way, how dare you not tell me--we will be talking about that later--but not now. He can’t stop you from being a beta, being who you wanna--”

 

“It isn’t Enjolras. I don’t even think he knows I stopped taking them.” Grantaire said, quietly. “It’s--I’ve been talking to Courfeyrac, alright? Me pretending to be a beta isn’t possible anymore. You said it yourself, Ep, when you and Ferre were soulbound everyone could tell. Especially alphas. Betas and alphas can’t be soulbound--it’s genetically impossible. It’s not a matter of whether or not I can pull off being a beta, because we all know I can and have been, but due to--to  _ this.  _ If I stay disguised I’m just going to bring more unwanted attention down on myself. I don’t want that. If people were to find out that I’ve been disguising who I am...who knows what’ll happen to me. To you guys. I couldn’t risk it.”

 

“But,” Eponine spluttered, “What about your job--your commissions you were working on--The Corinthe--”

 

“Quit my job at the Corinthe--they don’t accept omegas as workers. And, um, I called Mr. Fauchelevent last week to cancel some commissions he offered me but he insisted I did them even when I told him it probably wasn’t the greatest idea.” He didn’t expect, out of all the small jobs he had acquired over the years, that the art offers he got from Fauchelevent would stick. Fauchelevent wasn’t a bad man and Grantaire had become acquainted with him when he started going to the studios once he was stable enough on his suppressants. Still though, Fauchelevent was a good man and that is why the need for Grantaire to distance himself from him and his business grew. If people found out he had been selling artwork done by an omega, a defiled and ruined omega, there would undoubtedly be outrage. 

 

If Fauchelevent was willing to have him though, despite Grantaire warning him he might regret it, he was in no position to turn down his offer. Art was soothing and one of the things in life that Grantaire felt at ease doing. Being able to get paid to do it, if only a small amount, was more than Grantaire could’ve ever asked for.

 

Eponine didn't look convinced. Combeferre was next to her, looking oddly tense when she said, softly, “You were looking for your own apartment, Taire. A place you can call your own instead of on our couch--a place you deserve.  _ Fuck, you were looking at schools.  _ Art schools. Schools that would’ve accepted you in a heartbeat if--”

 

“Ep,” Combeferre said, his eyes never leaving Grantaire’s. “It’s his choice. His life a--”

 

“And he’s throwing it away because of that  _ fucking piss-head--” _

 

Grantaire groaned, “For the last time--and don’t get me wrong, Ep. I’m as pissed off at Enjolras as you are, but for other reasons--it wasn’t his fault. Either of our faults. Fate had always screwed me over since the moment I found out I was an omega. It was only a matter of time before my bad luck caught up with me.”

 

“Grantaire,” Eponine said, her eyes pleading. A look Grantaire wasn't used to seeing on Eponine’s hard and brash face. It threw him off a little. “, don’t do this. You can put on a strong face but I know you. I know this wasn't what you want. You owe the world, Enjolras,  _ anyone--nothing.  _ You don’t have to throw away everything you’ve worked on these last couple of years just because you got soulbonded to some idealistic prick--no offense, honey.” Eponine pats the top of Combeferre’s hand, her eyes never leave Grantaire. “Who gives a shit if people can tell if you’re bonded.  _ Who's gonna call you out?  _ You can move, R--”

 

“Eponine,”

 

“--away from all of this. A place where no one knows about this soulbond. Sure, maybe they’ll be able to feel it. But there is no way anyone would be able to trace it back to Enjolras--”

 

“Eponine, that isn’t a good idea.” Combeferre said, sternly.

 

Eponine rolled her eyes, “Ferre, I’m not gonna sit here and let R throw away everything he’s been working on to--”

 

“Who says I have to throw everything away?” Grantaire said, leaning back in his chair and huffing out a sigh. “I’m not  _ giving up, Ep.  _ I still intend to do everything that I planned on doing before this dumpster fire exploded on top of me.”

 

“Huh?” Eponine said.

 

“Get a place, get a job, go to school--the whole shambang. I don’t see why that has to stop just because I’m not on suppressants anymore.” Eponine and Combeferre are frozen in their seats across from him, their eyes darting between him and themselves like concerned parents that don’t know how to break some awful news to their delusional son. Grantaire rolled his eyes, “I mean-- _ jesus,  _ isn’t that why we meet at the Musain week and week? To fight for the rights of people like me? Obviously all Apollo wants to do is yell into a megaphone about how angry he is about these situations and start riots. At least me actually stepping up and setting an example will change something. I’m not saying it’ll work, but it’s start.”

 

And with that, Grantaire huffed and stormed out of the room. He didn’t necessarily race down the hallway, but he did find the bathroom rather quickly before letting himself take in a full gulp of air. Everything seemed toxic and he just wanted something new and fresh, a reason why he didn’t have to hide anymore. It was weird, he thought to himself idly as he began to strip down, adamant on taking a shower with whatever fruity shampoo he wanted. It was weird to think so positively and even if he didn’t believe it was true, that he could live a normal life, he didn’t give two shits. He would make it work.

 

He turned on the hot water and stepped inside the shower. It sprinkled down on him quickly, scattering across his skin like the rain. 

 

He had to make it work. If he didn’t, why the fuck was he even here?

 

_ Why was he here? Why was he here when his skin thrummed in anticipation to be close to someone who would never come? _

 

Grantaire swallowed, his mind turning off for a moment as he let the dirt run off of him along with the water and the fog from the shower encase around him. He stood still for about two more seconds before he felt a weight drop onto his chest, not a real one, but it might as well have been.

  
The hot water suddenly didn’t feel like a blessing, but a chamber of fire than coated and before Grantaire could think straight or even reach towards the faucet he was on the ground, his head just barely missing the edge of the tub before everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also guys, just think i should put a heads up here when you guys start asking me when the next chapter is up in a week or so. Um. This was kind of it. Remember when I told u guys i wrote this a long time ago and just decided to post it recently. Yeah. This was kind of gonna be it for me. That doesn't mean it has to, per say, let's just hope I remember the direction in which I was gonna take this and start writing again :D. This also means I'd appreciate a little patience. Updates definitely won't be as frequent or anywhere near as long as they have been in the past I'm afraid. But! I'm not usually one to quit so hopefully I can get this story moving once again. Thank you all for sicking with me through this journey and I hope you be back with new content for you guys soon!


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire wakes up in the hospital and has some shit to work through.
> 
> Enjolras is absent.
> 
> Grantaire and Jehan have problems with coffee and flowers thrown into the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys... I'm a real piece of shit, huh? This is a loooonnngggg ass time coming but here it is! Also, I'd like everyone to know that I only planned the book out until the fifth chapter so the rest of the book I'm completely pulling out of my ass to keep all of you guys happy :) Not that I don't love this story and all of you guys who follow it (seriously thank you for dealing with me) but the writer's block with this story is all too real guys. Really, really real. But! I'm gonna try and pull through! Tell me what you guys think and if you want more! Thanks!

Grantaire woke up in a strange and strangely clean room.

 

The walls looked like they had been stained white, if that was really even possible, and the smell of disinfectant filled his nose to the point where he felt like he might start gagging. He didn’t just on the principle that he literally felt like he couldn’t. His muscles were stiff and his throat felt like someone had stuck a curling iron down in and let it simmer. His entire body felt weak, like a leaf just barely hanging onto its branch. He was about to wilt away surely, he could feel his will to live, his will to fight and persevere even through the worst of time whither and dissipate in his mind and soul. It was a strange feeling, letting go, but it felt right all the same. His body was yelling at him that he didn’t have a purpose, that there was no point to keep fighting if he didn’t get what he needed, what he craved.   

 

He needed to hide, to find a place not so white and bright to die peacefully. He wanted to curl on himself in the darkest of caves and just let himself go. He wanted to be free of any and all restraints yet in the back of his mind he knew that meant nothing. He would never be free, not with just himself. He was incomplete and his very essence was telling him so with every labored breath and dared choke down. 

 

He was going to die. There was no point. No point in struggling when--

 

A piece of cloth landed on top of his face, momentarily blinding his already blurred vision. He went to bat it away and resume his departure but was halted when he took in a deep breath through his nose and--

 

\--and his entire world shifted, very similarly to the way it did before so many weeks ago. He smelt hope in its purest and richest forms. The scent consumed him and filled him with a medicine that he didn’t realize he needed to survive. He closed his eyes and just inhaled and inhaled the scent that sent everything in him thrumming, everything that made him an omega sprang to life and he nearly keened in relief as he buried his nose in the material. 

 

He was safe, he body thrummed in harmony, he was okay and protected and encased in this beautiful scent. This beautiful scent that would protect him and hold him and take him away from this torturous existence. This--This  _ alpha, yes this scent was from an alpha. An alpha that was strong and perfect, made just for him in every shape and form and was here. They were here and-- _

 

The haze wore off as soon as it had come. The relief he felt slowly faded away into a neutral balance that no, he wasn’t dying and no, there was no alpha here. An alpha? He was smelling a shirt, his mind helpfully supplied when he pulled them material back away from his face and took notice to what he was so desperately inhaling. It didn’t seem real, and for a second it took him much too long to realize that all of his emotions he had been feeling since being aware of his surroundings came directly from him omega natrue. 

 

_ Shit,  _ he forgot how helpless it was. How weak he felt being so wrongfully subjected to him instincts in such a way to make him think that he was actually going to  _ die  _ if he didn’t have an alpha there and near him.

 

He was just about to shove the material away, disgusted with the situation and himself, when he took note of the scent he was so desperately trying to get and nearly died from mortification. There was no mistaking the musk of an alpha, certainly not, but there was also no way Grantaire couldn’t possibly not recognize the all too familiar citrus-y goodness the was practically soaked into the material of the shirt.

 

Grantaire began to push the material away with all the strength he had left, even though his instincts were practically  _ screaming  _ at him to stop, but a hand landed on his elbow to stop him. 

 

The hand wasn’t from his alpha, his mind unhelpfully supplied, but still felt unthreatening enough for Grantaire not to flinch and start freaking out. He blurrily looked up at the figure holding him arm and cokced him head to the side in confusion when he recognized the kind smile and golden locks, “Cosette?”

 

Cosette smiled, warm and friendly, “Hey you,” she spoke quietly, “sorry about that earlier you--I was told by Courfeyrac that that was all he could get from Enjolras’s room without him noticing. I hope it was enough, you were really scaring me back there. How do you feel?”

 

Like hell. “Fine.” 

 

“Just rest, okay?” Cosette said, her hand a soothing weight on Grantaire’s arm. “You need some rest, really. You’ve--”

 

“Where am I?” Grantaire cut in, his tongue feeling like sandpaper.

 

Cosette gave him a sad smile, “Hospital. Eponine found you passed out on the shower floor three days ago.”

 

_ Three days ago.  _ “I--Where is she?” 

 

“She was here for the whole first day you were asleep, R.” Cosette reassured him with a nod. “But her work wasn’t allowing her anymore free days, not unless a direct relative is ill.” Cosette rolled his eyes at this. “So, we’ve all been taking little shifts watching you. Joly’s been here pretty much on and off all day cause he works here, but Feuilly and Bossuet were just here this morning during their break. Bahorel was here practically all evening the other day until the night staff literally had to kick him out. Marius just left a little bit ago to go find a nurse when you started waking up.”

 

“I’m…” Grantaire trailed off lamely, not really sure how to get his words across. His mind was still a little more than weak and he was still so tired. It was hard to keep his eyes trained on Cosette without faltering, “I’m so sorry. I--you guys didn’t have to--”

 

“Hush,” Cosette said, obviously reading his mind better than he could and realizing his struggle between unconsciousness and consciousness. “Sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

“I,” Grantaire began, fisting the shirt towards Cosette.

 

“Keep it,” She whispered, earnestly. “I know you’re confused and--well, we’ll talk about it more when you wake but… For now just let it be and  _ trust us.”  _ She ended the conversation with a determined shove back in Grantaire’s directly. The material lay over the top of Grantaire’s hands and he was almost shocked that that was all it took to calm him omega instincts, to trick them into thinking that he was safe and protected. The feeling confused, calmed, and scared the hell out of him.

 

But, determined not to disrupt his friends lives anymore, he dutifully let his tired eyes close and he was out in seconds, his fingers fisting the material and bringing it closer to his sensitive nose.

 

 

 

 

The next time Grantaire woke up it is with a clearer mind.

 

Eponine was there now, he could smell her sweet and calming scent spiked with anxiety even before he opened his eyes. She wasted no time practically tackling him when his eyes fully opened, her arms strewn around him like she could care less that he smelt like sweat and nasty hospital fumes. She wasn’t crying, Grantaire couldn’t detect any salt in the air, but she did sniffle when she buried her face into his throat. Slowly but surely, Grantaire was able to muster enough strength to hug her back, to stuff his nose into her hair and breath in the scent of home. He only wished that along with the relief and warmth her familiar scent brought, there also wasn’t a second thought in the back of his mind that unhelpfully supplied that  _ no, she wasn’t the right scent. The scent he needed. _

 

The thought made him sick to his stomach and he found himself drawing Eponine closer to him in fear that his instincts might get the best of him and force him to do something terrible like push her away. 

 

“Your a fucking dick, you know that?” Eponine panted when she finally pulled back enough to look at him properly. 

 

“I know.” He croaked, his throat dry and raspy from hardly speaking for the past couple of days. Which reminded him, “How long have I been out?”

 

Eponine gave him a sad look, but she didn’t shy away from the answer, “Nearly five days. Cosette called as soon as you fell back asleep a day or so ago in hopes that you would wake up again soon but… I couldn’t leave you. I haven’t.” At that Eponine snorted, shaking her head. “Look at what you’ve turned me into, you asshole. A fucking pathetic, worrisome mother.”

 

“Thanks Ep,” He said because he knew she needed it, needed to be reassured that she did the right thing and that he was more than happy that she had been with him this whole time.

 

“Doctors never brought up the idea of a coma, thank God.” Eponine continued on, her face wrecked with relief. “They said you were exhausted, emotionally and physically. Have you been sleeping, R? Before this? At all?”

 

“I… I think.” Grantaire said, unsure. Everything was so confusing. “I can’t remember. I didn’t sleep well, but I never have. You know this.”

 

“There’s a difference between no sleep and not sleeping well.” Eponine told him. “Combeferre thinks that even if your body shut down for even a couple of hours while you slept, your mind was still awake, unable to rest because your instincts told you that… well, that you weren’t safe. It wasn’t safe to sleep without… ”

 

Eponine didn’t have to finish and Grantaire wasn’t sure if she was even going to, but she seemed to cut off as soon as he winced at her implying words. He gulped, “When can I leave?”

 

Eponine gave him a sympathizing look, which just looked completely wrong on her usually stern face. Eponine never showed sympathy so openly, not that she didn’t care, she cared about Grantaire more than anyone in his entire life has, but she’s an expert at hiding those feelings and putting up a rough exterior. She’s Grantaire’s anchor and to see her look so helpless, so  _ worried,  _ it made him--he couldn’t--

 

“I called a nurse.” Combeferre’s voice suddenly cut in as he approached them slowly. He didn’t look in any better shape than Eponine did. Thick, black bags hung under his eyes and his shirt was rumpled like he hadn’t had time to watch it or change it during the past couple days. Still, he offered Grantaire a weary smile, “Glad you’re awake, R.”

 

Grantaire nodded, his throat tightening, “What--Ferre, what’s going on?”

 

Combeferre bit his lip roughly and chanced a look in Eponine’s direction. She gave him a sour look, but there must’ve been something in her expression that Combeferre could read so easily--perhaps they felt it through their bond--but he sighed heavily, “Rejection.”

 

_ “What?” _

 

“Your,” Combeferre broke off and looked aside, shaking his head, “it’s a condition that only soul bonded pairs experience. I--I don’t really know much about it but… it’s a bodily reaction, R. Your instincts are confused and making your mind emotionally vulnerable and weak. Joly thinks it is the combination of you avoiding  _ him _ and your sudden lack of suppressants. Your omega instincts are fragile and reawakening in a sense and feel volatile and unprotected. You’ve been living as a beta for so long and have only really reverted back to your natural state when… when you and Enjolras…”

 

Grantaire shook his head violently, “Stop. I--that’s not… I’m not gonna be that way,  _ this way,  _ I-I can’t--”

 

“And you won’t.” Eponine reassured him with such determination that Grantaire was suddenly reminded of when he was skeptical of if he could ever pull off being a beta. The look in her eyes--the absolute belief and faith in him--it didn’t seem as comforting as it was back then. “This is temporary, R. Your hormones are all out of wack and,  _ shit,  _ that’s probably my fault. I’m sorry, R. I--I knew letting you take those suppressants for so long would have consequences, but I just… I don’t know, I thought if I could help you and be by your side throughout everything I--”

 

“You aren’t my keeper, Ep.” Grantaire said. “I chose to do what I did for as long as I did. Hell, I probably would still be on them if not for…”

 

“Yeah.” Eponine nodded in understandment.

 

“Still, that doesn’t make this your fucking fault,  _ Jesus.  _ I--I was reckless and now I’m fucked. I’m completely fucking  _ fucked.”  _ Grantaire felt like shoving his head into his hands and just letting himself cry. He wouldn’t though, not in front of the people that are by his side and all too willing to help his sorry ass. No, he wasn’t going to sit and cry like some omega bitch while people fixed his own problems. It was more than difficult to fight off the need to curl up and ball his eyes out though when his instincts screamed at him to just submit. To admit defeat and wait for someone stronger and more capable to help him. 

 

_ Enjolras.  _ His brain practically screamed at him.  _ Enjolras, our alpha, he can help. He’ll help and hold and love me until everything just disappears, everything that is troubling and-- _

 

“I can’t think straight.” Grantaire grit out between clenched teeth, his eyes clamped shut. “I-I need to get out of this fucking room. I--everything  _ smells  _ like--”

 

“Like detergent and death.” Eponine said with a small, lopsided smile.

 

“Exactly.” This was why Grantaire fucking hated hospitals. Too many memories of being torn away, of being ignored, of being put into heat rooms when his parents couldn’t find an alpha willing to pay enough to get him through it--

 

Eponine must’ve noticed the spike in his scent, the anxiety laced pungent smell that suddenly clouded the room. She turned towards Combeferre with a pleading look. “He’s awake. We can take him home now right? He’s--He’ll get better. I can take care of him--I--”

 

“You’re not what he needs, Ep.” Combeferre nearly choked on the words, undoubtedly hating himself for having to be the one to give his mate such news. Eponine hid her despair behind a heated glare, but Combeferre held his ground. “They aren’t going to let him leave until his hormones are stable.”

 

“He’s not going to get any better here than he would at home, Ferre!”

 

“Ep,” Combeferre whispered fiercely, his bloodshot and tired eyes going wide, “right now we are in no place to make demands. He is an omega that has been using black market, illegal drugs to suppress his scent and instincts and they know about it. There are still traces in his system and we are lucky that instead of arresting us or him they are actually  _ helping  _ him. God knows what they’ll do after he’s better but--”

 

“They aren’t taking him anywhere.” Eponine nearly growled.

 

“Of course not.” Combeferre agreed easily. “Cases like this happen all the time. If they were to arrest every omega posing as a beta they’d be swamped in paperwork here at the hospital and at the precinct.” He paused, his eyes going up towards the ceiling for a moment before returning, “If we are lucky all they will do is monitor Grantaire’s status, get his hormones back on track, and put him on temporary probation by the OCA.”

 

Grantaire gaped, “The  _ Omega’s Correctional Administration?” _

 

“Just a couple months to track your progress and to make sure you aren’t taking anymore illegal substances.” Combeferre paused for a moment, “but, as you both know, they do have programs for omegas who act out of line--”

 

“They aren’t taking him away!” Eponine barked, her eyes glowing blue in panic. The OCA, while a joke of an administration at most times, does pride itself on having questionable methods when it comes to ‘correcting’ omegas of bad behavior. Grantaire had only heard horrific stories, but none of which from people who  _ actually  _ make it out of the program without being turned into mindless machines. 

 

“Everything will be  _ fine.”  _ Combeferre’s voice dripped with anxiety due to the worry in his mate’s voice. His hands reached out to touch her, but Eponine was slouched over Grantaire and Grantaire knew the last thing he wanted to do was put anymore stress on her shoulders, so he let her have her space with a reluctant sigh. 

 

Grantaire, despite the inner turmoil going on inside of him, grasped Eponine’s hand like a lifeline and forced his mind not to drift. His body felt like it had been stripped of a crucial outer layer, a protective blanket of the sorts and now he was barren to the world. It was like living with his parents again where anything could happen to him against his will but only worse. The odds were stacked against him and he just wanted to be held and buried away in a place where no one could ever find him again, no one could  _ ever  _ hurt him again. He wanted to nest and plant himself deep inside the scent of his alpha until no one could even recognize him anymore. It was an oddly possessive thought to have, one Grantaire never thought he could ever imagine wanting as an omega and it terrified him.

 

Eponine wasn’t enough though and something in her scent told him that she knew that too, but it didn’t sway her even a bit. Grantaire couldn’t have asked for a better friend and almost felt like crying when the relief that although his scent was basically screaming to everyone around him that he felt vulnerable, Eponine understood and stood by his side with a determined look on her face. She wasn’t alone either. Slowly but surely, the days drew on and more and more people visited Grantaire and ignored his panicked scent.

 

Courfeyrac and Jehan brought him too much chocolate for a party let alone one man to eat all by himself. It was a kind gesture and actually made Grantaire crack a smile, especially when Courfeyrac knew to keep his distance at the other side of his room knowing that his alpha scent may be too much for Grantaire’s overstimulated senses. Jehan though surprised him when he laid his hand on top of his and gently massaged the inside of his wrist, scenting him. The smell of another omega, an omega that he knew and trusted, brought surprising relief to him and was nearly enough to lull him to sleep.

 

Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet showed up a couple hours later with their hands full of gifts and their scents neutral and welcoming. Grantaire could only smile as they flooded him with stories and cheesy jokes that he has missed within the past week. They had probably been wanting to see him as soon as they heard he was awake, but one look from Combeferre told Grantaire that he had definitely sent a large message to all the Amis to keep their distance until he knew what the situation was like. It warmed Grantaire’s heart and once again he wondered how in the world he got so lucky.

 

Cosette and Marius showed up once or twice throughout the week but didn’t stay longer than to tell him a few stories and wish him a swift recovery. Bahorel and Feuilly on the other hand were there at Grantaire’s bedside table playing cards with him and trying (and most of the time failing epically) to sneak him some alcohol. 

 

“You must quench your thirst, R.” Bahorel had said when he could get close enough to Grantaire without Grantaire’s senses going completely mad. 

 

Feuilly had just rolled his eyes and smacked Bahorel on the top of his head while Grantaire laughed his ass off.

 

He was discharged with a free bill of health and no call to the OCA made after a week and two days in the hospital. 

 

He didn’t dwell on it, or at least he tried not to, but his mind couldn’t help but remind him every time he saw one of his friends come and visit him that Enjolras was never one of them. He never brought it up and neither did any of his friends, not even Combeferre, and for that he was grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

 

Grantaire stood outside on a rather rainy day and ignored the droplets raining down on his head. It wasn’t too terribly cold and the mass amount of people bustling down the street was more than enough body warmth to keep him toasty in the damp weather. Jehan on the other hand was wrapped head to toe in colorful scarves, a brilliant yellow raincoat, and matching boots that reached his mid calf. It was a silly look, but one that only he could somehow pull off in a million years. 

 

Jehan’s hair was braided today and if Grantaire’s memory was right he had a couple new blue streaks running through it. His whole aura though of being peppy and ready despite the weather had crumpled before Grantaire’s eyes when they had reached the front door of a new flower shop/cafe that had just opened around a block away from the Musain. Grantaire had been weary of the place since he had gotten out of the hospital, even coming out on a walk today with Jehan had Eponine’s scent spiking with anxiety. But after a couple of minutes of convincing Eponine that  _ yes, he wasn’t an infant that needed a babysitter everywhere he went  _ he agreed to accompany Jehan on his little adventure to the new shop while Courfeyrac was stuck at work.

 

Now though, they both stood in front of the crowded shop with looks of disdain and sadness, mostly disdain from Grantaire and sadness from Jehan as they reread the sign:

 

_ Danger use of potentially deadly chemicals in ingrediants in shop. For safety reasons, no omegas are prohibited from being left alone on the premises without an alpha/beta guardian to accompany them at all times. Thank you. _

 

“That’s absolute bullshit.” Grantaire said, shaking his head. “ _ Potential deadly chemicals?  _ What? In the gardening soil? Fucking--”

 

“Yeah,” Jehan said, his voice a little somber as he glanced down the street. “We can see if the Musain isn’t too crowded. Musichetta could maybe get off a little early and take us--”

 

“Come on,” Grantaire said, tugging on the sleeve of Jehan’s raincoat until he stumbled forward after him.  He felt a little bad about the wide-eyed look that passed over Jehan’s face, but only for a second. 

 

“R, I um, look we--”

 

“Can’t?” Grantaire asked, rolling his eyes as he made his way up the couple of concrete steps leading up to the door while Jehan reluctantly trailed after him. “And  _ I’m  _ supposed to be the cynical one of the group.”

 

“I’m not being  _ cynical,”  _ the door ringed as Grantaire pushed it open and Jehan’s word came out faster and quieter, “I’m just saying that I’m not willing to risk my day off for a flower shop when we can just go to the Musain and get help for and--”

 

“And what?” Grantaire spun around, facing his friend with an incredulous look on his face. “We’re fine, Jehan. Geez, come on. Enjoy yourself, look at all the potting soil your heart desires while maybe even picking out a  _ deadly chemical  _ that turns your tulips brown for a day.”

 

Jehan looked hesitant, but as they made their way further and further into the shop and no one seemed to notice, he seemed to relax back into himself. “I already know a deadly chemical for that.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah, it’s called  _ leaving Courfeyrac in charge of watering them.” _

 

“Yikes Provaire.” Grantaire muttered, shaking his head and patting his friend on the back. They made their way through the shop almost seamlessly. Jehan was more than happy to tug Grantaire through countless rows of seeds and even stopped near the back to check out the arrangements of bouquets set up for display. Grantaire didn’t understand half the shit Jehan was saying as he lamented over each flower and delicately studied every damn pedal, but he smiled through it anyway. The flower shop had a calming air to it despite it’s backward-thinking sign it had on it’s front door and made Grantaire feel not so skittish for once. Being in the hospital had not helped Grantaire’s senses calm down, but coming home surprisingly had. Even hanging out with Jehan was making him feel like he could get through this and move on with his life.

 

“You think I should get them?”

 

Grantaire shrugged, “For who? Yourself?” When Jehan gave him a disapproving look, Grantaire elaborated, “Come on, you know you’re the only one out of all of us besides, like, Joly who would even know how to keep those alive for more than a week.”

 

Jehan clutched the bouquet of flowers to his chest like Grantaire had just insulted them and said, “They’re calla lillies! Shame on you, sir.”

 

“My sincerest apologies to your precious flowers.” Grantaire said and Jehan gave him a small smile before returning the bouquet to it’s original stand.

 

Of course, and Grantaire really shouldn’t have been surprised, it all went downhill after that.

 

They were fucking  _ leaving  _ the premises. Leaving the shop without a single bag of  _ deadly chemicals  _ or even a box of tea from the cafe and they still found themselves face to face with a tall woman with curly red hair and a red apron with white polka dots on it. She smiled down at them and clasped her hands to her chest, “Find everything all right?”

 

Grantaire was about to answer and be a polite fucking human being, but even he sensed something was off. The woman was an alpha, no flowery dress she was currently sporting and warm smile could hide the pheromones practically dripping off her, but that wasn’t necessarily what stopped him. It was something in her eyes and tone of voice, like she was speaking down to him that made Grantaire’s hackles immediately rise.

 

Jehan, oblivious and cheerful as ever, didn’t seem to take even the slightest hint of what was going on and actually beamed at the woman, “It’s a fabulous shop, ma’am.  _ Oh!  _ I mean--not to assume just--”

 

“I’m the owner, yes. My name’s Charlie.” The woman nodded. “I own the place with my omega, we opened it just a couple weeks ago after our daughter turned three.”

 

“How nice!” Jehan smiled, flipping a few stray hairs out of his face. “I wish you all the best of luck and--and me and R will certainly come back!”

 

“Will you.” It wasn’t quite a question, but her twisted smile was enough to make Grantaire’s stomach clench.

 

“Yeah, we’ll just be leaving now.” He knew his tone must’ve made the alpha’s hackles rise, and judging by the way her already taut back suddenly became ramrod straight proved that thought correct, but at that point he couldn’t care less. “Good day.”

 

“Hun,” Her voice dropped an octave, a deep alpha undertone to her voice, and Grantaire suddenly was living with his parents again--his father’s voice ordering him to do as he was told, scolding him like a child he was no longer. The woman kept her smile on her face well enough, but her commanding tone stayed the same as she pressed on, “we both know I can’t let you do that.”

 

Jehan went still next to him, but Grantaire just glared, “And why the hell not?”

 

The alpha didn’t seem phased which made Grantaire worry even more, “I was kind enough to let you both walk through here unprotected and you’re lucky I’m not charging you for wasting my time.”

 

“Wasting  _ your time?”  _ Grantaire asked.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him and Grantaire pretended he wasn’t affected, that a look like that from any alpha sent a shiver of  _ something  _ running up his spine that made him want to submit, “I had to watch you both stumble through here on your own without an alpha or even a beta. Haven’t either of you been taught how to properly protect yourselves? Both your alphas should be ashamed.”

 

Jehan actually growled at that, “You don’t know shit, lady.”

 

Grantaire barely was about to keep his own mouth shut at the lady’s crude accusations. It was only the fact that his brain was a second too late on reminding him that  _ no, he didn’t have an alpha.  _ He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to--

 

“It still stands,” the lady crossed her arms, defiant and alpha and posturing _ ,  _ “get someone down here to escort you out, or I’ll call someone from the station to do it for you.”

 

“And fucking  _ how  _ will this benefit you in any way shape or form?” Grantaire spat out, practically seething.

 

The alpha looked up at him like he was incompetent, “Oh please, I’m not gonna be held responsible because of two idiotic omegas decide to leave  _ my  _ shop unattended and then  _ my _ shop takes the fall for whatever falls upon either or you.” The lady shook her head and looked astray, like she was talking more to herself than she was to them, “You omegas want your damn rights and you got them,” the lady’s tone grew more and more angry as she continued, more accusatory as she turned and glared daggers at them both, “but don’t think that just because you have protection on paper means that you’re untouchable now. Laws can’t change the way people think in the blink of an eye. There are some fucked up people in this world and if you think I’m going to have your blood on my conscience just because you don’t want to believe in the natural order or things then you both must be sick in the head.”

 

Grantaire suddenly felt horribly cold at the lady’s words, like he couldn’t actually fathom the words coming out of someone’s mouth. Jehan next to him didn’t look like he was in much better shape. The lady straightened her back and flicked a piece of hair out of her eyes. She composed herself in a single breath and gave them another sickeningly sweet smile, “The choice is yours. Either call someone or I will. There-- _ a choice. Isn’t that all you omegas give a rip about nowadays?” _

 

Grantaire didn’t realize he was shaking until Jehan’s hand latched onto his arm and weighed him down like an anchor, “Grantaire.  _ R,  _ you can’t.”

 

He was referring to the overwhelming need Grantaire suddenly had to  _ sucker punch  _ this lady in the fucking nose until he literally saw the prejudice and discrimination she had against all omegas leaking out of her nose in the form of blood. Jehan was always able to read his mind right before he was about to do stupid things.

 

An omega comes from around the cafe counter. She has freckles and light brown hair that reaches down to her shoulders and stops in front of Grantaire with an endearing smile. She holds out a cellphone to him and shrugs, “Don’t be mad at her, really. She’s just trying to help.”

 

“ _ Mary.”  _ Charlie warns, her tone bordering on controlling.

 

The omega--Mary--just nods her mate’s way before forcing the phone into Grantaire’s hand. “Here. Please just--please.”

 

Then the omega scurries off, but not before nodding her mate’s way. The act made Grantaire sick to his stomach.

 

Grantaire saddled himself in for an argument as he looked back at that alpha. His limbs were already pulled tight and the fresh anger boiling instead of him just fueled him on. Before he could even take in a breathe to speak, Jehan’s hand was back around his wrist, his grip tight and unforgiving as he urged Grantaire to look his way.

 

“It’s not worth it.” Jehan said immediately and Grantaire scoffed before Jehan yanked his attention back towards him by whimpering ever so softly. The sound made Grantaire freeze and look at his friend in a new light as the poor omega gave him a watery-eyed look, practically pleading him, “I--I know it’s wrong. I-I do and--”

 

“Jehan, we don’t have to do  _ shit.  _ We can--”

 

“I know I know--” Jehan sounded more frazzled the longer Grantaire spoke, his eyes distant and wide. “Just think for a moment, okay? We can call Chetta, she’s a beta and--”

 

“An alpha or I’m calling the station.” The lady leaned in close to Grantaire, her sneer almost a physical thing as she hissed at him. “And don’t try anything funny,  _ omega.  _ I have a permit and I’ll use it if I have to.”

 

And with that, the alpha walked away. The fake, cheery smile was back on her face in an instant as she greeted another customer walking in, undoubtedly showing Grantaire that there was no way she was moving too far away from the door.

 

Jehan was a wreck next to him. He was shaking and he looked on the verge of tears. The sight was so unlike Jehan that Grantaire almost wanted to shake him by the shoulders and ask him  _ how? Where was the Jehan that attended meeting after meeting at the Musain? Meetings that entailed fighting for omega right, fighting for  _ his  _ rights, fighting for-- _

 

As if Jehan could read his mind, he released a heavy sigh as well as his tight grip on Grantaire’s wrist. He looked down, shaking his head, “You don’t understand. You  _ can’t,  _ you--”

 

“What don’t I understand, Jehan?” Grantaire asked, tone impatient.

 

Jehan just shook his head, “You haven’t been an omega for a while, R.”

 

Grantaire gawked at him, “So you think that means I’ve forgotten. That I’ve just-- _ moved on?  _ That--”

 

“No! Just,” The blonde grit his teeth, “you got to see life on the other side. You--”

 

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Jehan. Don’t give me that shit. Tell me what you’re really thinking.”

 

“Grantaire,” Jehan steadied him with the most serious look Grantaire can ever remember Jehan using, “if they call us an escort from the station, that escort isn’t going to take us to our homes or even to an alpha. Their--we’ll be fucking thrown in a cell until someone can pick us up. OCA is there. Other alphas are there. And we--I can’t….  _ Grantaire,  _ Courfeyrac he--”

 

Jehan’s voice broke at the sound of Courfeyrac’s name and that was all it takes for Grantaire to turn on the phone he was given and dial that only fucking number he could think of.

 

Feuilly’s heat wa that week, hence no Bahorel.

 

Combeferre was interning for the weekend and wouldn’t be back till late that night.

 

Courfeyrac couldn’t take any more personal days--it’s the reason he wasn’t here with them to begin with.

 

That leaves one fucking human being that Grantaire had been avoiding with all his might ever since he’d been discharged.

 

Enjolras answered on the first ring and Grantaire wasn’t even a little surprised. Ever since he’d first met him, Grantaire had known Enjolras was the most high strung and efficient person he would ever know--if not the most delusional one.

 

“Hello?”

 

The voice sent a bolt of heat flashing behind Grantaire’s eyes and racing through the rest of his body. Grantaire quickly gulped down the feeling and shut his eyes closed, tightly, “Hey. It’s, ah, it’s me.”

 

“Grantaire.” Enjolras’s voice sounded steady, if not a little surprised.

 

Grantaire gripped the phone tightly. His whole body slowly started to go numb as he prepared himself for what he had to do, if not for Jehan’s sake. “I need you. Like, right now.”

 

Before Grantaire could even finish, Enjolras was speaking, “ _ Where are you?” _

 

Enjolras--alpha as ever--seemed to pick up immediately on the distress in Grantaire’s voice which saved Grantaire at least a little bit of explaining. Still, the deep octave in his voice was not helping Grantaire’s ability to stand let alone his sanity at all.

 

Grantaire though, pushed all this down and tired to put a wry smile on his face, “You won’t believe this, Apollo. Actually, now that I think about it, you’re probably the worst person I can call. You see, me and Jehan are bending to society’s rule and calling upon you--great and powerful alpha--to be our damn escort in broad daylight.”

 

Grantaire made sure to say the words loud enough that Charlie, the stupid bitch alpha, could hear with her perfectly sensitive ears. The easy tone he had forced his voice to use though seemed to have done the trick. Jehan melted in relief next to him, no longer so strung up, and Enjolras on the phone seemed to release a hefty sigh as well, if not in just exasperation.

 

“Where are you?” Enjolras asked again, sounding more like himself, and Grantaire was more than willing to give him the address with the hopes that it would get him out of this fucking cafe/flower shit show as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, the next chapter is gonna get a little saucy. Just a fair warning for most likely Grantaire's heat. I'm gonna try and do my own little take on the whole A/B/O heat trope and I hope you guys will like it! I'm panning on having the next chapter our in (hopefully, God, hopefully) around a month! I wanna write this summer!!!!!! And finishing this ancient fic is on the top of my list so thank you everyone who has stuck with me and this shitty A/B/O fic that no one asked for :)   
> Please though, I do have a terrible knack for leaving one story unfinished and starting another--but believe it or not I do have finished books!! Go check out my library for more Enjoltaire trash <3
> 
> Until next time my lovelies...

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post more depending on how well people like this part here :)  
> Believe it or not this story is already half way over I just need to post it so... enjoy what I have so far.


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